opus one-O-seven

playing from the silence long nurtured and alive

as a score in the mind of  its father's plight

the pianist pounds notes out to the ears

as if in a flight from their sheltered might

in France, Sherwood* roamed, homeless, through quaint Parisian streets

streaming with passion but no engine to turn

will you permit your passions to sound again? someone asked

will you let rise once more the fire in your bones?

the homeless man, unbounded, frightened his fears

broke their barricades and re-ignited his fire

raging with hope, uncorked, on fire with a goal

i weep during the score once housed in his mind

beyond the iv'ry, i could hear my self

feelings of envy prodding me to open my doors

to chance my expressions of bottled fire

to leap into freedom, alive and at home

*Gordon Sherwood, pianist/composer, from Evanston, IL, was a homeless beggar in Paris for a decade or more