A slight hint of winter’s bleak sunset, with a lavender sky 
churns inside of me  
as I listen to Chopin’s ballade no. 1 in g minor, 
and I think to myself, 
what was the composer feeling when he wrote this piece 
of music, this opus 23 that speaks to the mind, 
body and soul of longing– 
it is both a soft scent of apple pie and a raging storm, 
I have never heard anything like it.  

It softens the edges, and I can understand why, 
stretches the heart into pieces,  
as we lose ourselves in the city’s wild blush, 
the aggressive dote of the sun, 
it makes one yearn for a slow Spring,  
where there are no sudden changes,  
when each flower and leaf unfold deliberately, 
and a grey squirrel curious for shelter, 
isn’t concerned with neon lightning,
nor shifting ocean of percussion or the dark doldrums– 

it is almost as though he knows where to go; 
however, the same, cannot be said about the 
direction of a person’s thoughts.

The ballade speaks in clusters and lullabies,  
falls with the heart’s snow, 
they say that music has landscape that is anything 
but definite, it alters,  
filling us with a sense of dread, that hovers 
when the streets are empty, 
and then with hope,  
as veil of mist that clings to branches of tall trees, 
like a lover that
begs to stay; such is the allure of Chopin’s ballade.  





Photo credits: Pinterest 

Kim hosts at dVerse where she invites us to write inspired by a piece
of instrumental music. Come join us! ❤️

Posted for Poetics: Without Words @dVerse Poets Pub