For my father

Player piano -

the music sits somewhere

in between his fingers

and his

jazz, silent sounds.

I can't understand -

the words mean

time thought small slow smooth

move

that

beat

and flow.

flow -

something has come about

between his subconscious and his

soul;

Like how a singer can speak,

and then weave you

some lonely, lovely stranger's voice -

I know you,

but where did that come from?

Not even a breath.

He breathes within the music;

or perhaps,

the music breathes

in him.

Either way -

all left,

leaving a

sigh,

and a

gasp.