The Melody Lingers On

The moonlight turned your skin to cream

A breeze moved your silken hair

Your image presented as a dream

With a fragile beauty seen so rare

I offered you a single rose

Its crimson blush matching your complexion

You smiled, assuming a graceful pose

A smooth, pale hand in delicate flexion

Then as the music ebbed and your image faded

Evanescing in the capricious breeze

The crimson rose lay . . . degraded

Upon the stilled piano keys