Poem In Progress

 On Opus 28, No. 15

On the eve of the new year, I hosted brunch— 

the table was full, the coffee poured, 

laughter and chatter dancing in the morning air. 

And somewhere between the laughter 

and the clearing of plates, 

I noticed I was not pretending. 

I truly felt joy to be with friends 

in our home, spreading a feast.

The next day I ran 

into the crisp morning of the year, 

Chopin in my ears, 

and that repeated note— 

the one that never lifts, 

the one under the melody— 

found me mid-stride 

and named what I had almost missed:

Like opus 28, I hold two songs at once.

Beneath everything, is you. 

Steady as a pulse, that A-flat, 

a metronome keeping time, 

patient and soft as rain tapping a window.

And floating above, the melody of my new life— tentative, surprised by its own sweetness— 

daring to dandle and float 

like a balloon to a heavy hand. 

I'm daring to call it a partner now 

not a weight.

I did not leave you in the old year 

any more than the opus left the baseline behind. 

Any more than a balloon leaves the child behind. 

You crossed the new year with me. 

You were at the table sustaining my joy. 

You are the beat beneath my feet 

as I run into what comes next,

still keeping time.