This poem deserves to become a song. The sound has to be sadly lingering and pensive, may be a bit muffled. Muted piano. The beat should be slow and free, probably not accentuated by drums, no, hid in the notes. Think the piano in ‘House of Woodcock’ by John Greenwood, score of ‘Phantom Thread’. Not the notes, the sound.

I am not a songwriter or composer, alas.

I am also reminded of the piano music of Webern/Schönberg, not the twelve-tone structure, but the emotional secrets hidden in that difficult notes. I mean to say I had to read your poem over and over again, mystified by the meaning but immediately vexed by their composition.

Friend of life and beauty and foe of spoilers of life and beauty. Golden marriage. Grandfather. Pianist and micro poet. Dutch, European.

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