Final Days

two notes with long fermatas
sitting on opposing staffs
they were like that
in a gray world of weary waiting

each day sunlight refracted through clouds
of time that held familiarity and terror
they passed each other in the markets
breathing the same heavy air

she dropped her glove; he found it
and kept it in his coat pocket
imagining its owner, as she pondered
its loss along with the others

both sensed the perilous times
both heard a keyboard knitting
melodies from their hearts
giving them courage before

they were detained and taken away

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 4.23.2017

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