November, November/Nobis Pacem

Violet lights gleam on sweat

Rounded edges of polished wood

He is punctual, if a little lost

Soft face and heart

Tell me a story, darling stranger

With your body and your hands

I will never play like you

I can only dream of that sweetness

And I will not know you for some time

I will know only your soul

Pure and honest on the keys

__________________

Hands a river

Bite your lip and turn away

Art before exhibition I say

Don’t look me in the eyes

I’ll lose the thread of this prayer

Miserere nobis

Dona nobis pacem

Love the music and forget my face