there are places

i go
beyond the moon

beyond your teardrops of forgiveness

where mozart's magic flute plays
and it's all in the desire to believe our dream

the beauty whistling around this love

and yet...

there are places that seduce me
when my obsessions rise up, spill over

the rim of my good sense

and my body dis-enchants herself

from my heart

while notes from one of chopin's baleful nocturnes
finger-play upon my mind and elsewhere

here and there, yes there too
unraveling what i worked for, ached for

and again i must beg forgiveness
for the song i sang to another.


mia