Moonlight Sonata
Nimble fingers, large but delicate fingers, perform their graceful dance across ivory and ebony, never missing a beat as heart and soul are played out, outpouring in a wealth of pained memory and melody that rips the still silence apart. A scant handful of gentle notes floated upon a current of unyielding moonlight, interposed between the rough, hard, uncaring jagged notes of a heart being broken; while expert fingers play on, in the harsh and lovely music of a contrasting moonlight. Melodies never ceasing, tones intertwining in their posioned embrace of sorrow and sacrifice to form the song of his broken love - without even skipping a beat, the rose reposing in his hand like a bloodstain falls to the floor, then disappears under the harshness of his boot. The once-rose he wished to give to him, to the one lovely sapphire... and those violet eyes, cold and hard as the ebonies and ivories they caress with their tear-filled gaze, those violet eyes stare on as the moonlit melody, a solace for an empty heart and soul, plays on.
Suddenly, a sound, a jagged interruption cutting acorss the melody - a door opens. The fingers stop their playing; a tousled and weary head swings up, startled violet eyes look to meet unusually tear-caressed sapphires. An unspoken cacophony of words, unsaid conversation, expression in once glance of deep understading that tells them both everything, and the blue eyes approach, with hesitant step and a slight smile. The fingers withdraw from their stronghold on the ivory, the eyes hoping but uncertain - could it truly be? A faint nod in the blue eyes - he always was a man of few words - a glad yes, and suddenly the azure - eyed man is sweeping away his violet-eyed lover, and two broken hearts are made whole, two souls intertwined as one. And when next melody from the violent- eyed man was heard, it was a song of joy, and icy blue eyes smiled, watching, filled with love. And a rose was clenched in his hand, blooming red and beautiful as a heart of lovers, while the sunlit message of love played on, notes transfigured into a love story by the so-delicate hand and the dreamy violet eyes which, every now and then as he plays, swing up and hold the gaze of his precious sapphires; but HIS melody never falters.
Nimble fingers, large but delicate fingers, perform their graceful dance across ivory and ebony, never missing a beat as heart and soul are played out, outpouring in a wealth of pained memory and melody that rips the still silence apart. A scant handful of gentle notes floated upon a current of unyielding moonlight, interposed between the rough, hard, uncaring jagged notes of a heart being broken; while expert fingers play on, in the harsh and lovely music of a contrasting moonlight. Melodies never ceasing, tones intertwining in their posioned embrace of sorrow and sacrifice to form the song of his broken love - without even skipping a beat, the rose reposing in his hand like a bloodstain falls to the floor, then disappears under the harshness of his boot. The once-rose he wished to give to him, to the one lovely sapphire... and those violet eyes, cold and hard as the ebonies and ivories they caress with their tear-filled gaze, those violet eyes stare on as the moonlit melody, a solace for an empty heart and soul, plays on.
Suddenly, a sound, a jagged interruption cutting acorss the melody - a door opens. The fingers stop their playing; a tousled and weary head swings up, startled violet eyes look to meet unusually tear-caressed sapphires. An unspoken cacophony of words, unsaid conversation, expression in once glance of deep understading that tells them both everything, and the blue eyes approach, with hesitant step and a slight smile. The fingers withdraw from their stronghold on the ivory, the eyes hoping but uncertain - could it truly be? A faint nod in the blue eyes - he always was a man of few words - a glad yes, and suddenly the azure - eyed man is sweeping away his violet-eyed lover, and two broken hearts are made whole, two souls intertwined as one. And when next melody from the violent- eyed man was heard, it was a song of joy, and icy blue eyes smiled, watching, filled with love. And a rose was clenched in his hand, blooming red and beautiful as a heart of lovers, while the sunlit message of love played on, notes transfigured into a love story by the so-delicate hand and the dreamy violet eyes which, every now and then as he plays, swing up and hold the gaze of his precious sapphires; but HIS melody never falters.