Slave To Love sort of a sonnet

Slave To Love     sort of a sonnet

We always played by candlelight.  Mahler, Rachmaninoff,

you cried as you brought the piano to orgasm.  Faster

and faster till at last the sky broke open.  Thunder 

in the black keys.  You could hold the world in your hands,

or just my heart.  I loved you with such a simple

straight-forward passion for your voice, your eyes, 

your hands, your miraculous hands.  Eyes closed,

shivering, unable to catch my breath, not knowing 

if it was you or the music taking me.  Wings 

caressing the keys, caressing my face.  It

didn’t matter.  You call my name in the melody, the harmony,  

I forget my name, remembering only each note

as it enters me whispering, then exploding

like lightening.