Call me an unsound sight!

Sunken in this pool of teal tonight

Is a pianist and piano all in white.

 

The piano is grand,

Waiting for maestro hands.

 

The recital is due:

Each movement, a wave obfuscating;

Each note, bubbles of sound escaping.

 

And as it continues,

The pianist and piano fade

Like water is how music is made.

 

And as it soon concludes,

The waves and the bubbles disappear.

I see nothing but a pool of clear.

 

I cannot know if this show was real, but I feel

What I listened to was the wistful sound of teal.