This one is for Eva

Manhattan Sonnet - 22

I watch you tug imaginary gloves
  And tilt your head because you hate your chin,
And then play through the city’s rush and shoves
  As if Manhattan were your violin.
Your tune is high and soaring, like your dreams:
  The major theme of one great symphony
That will resolve the concrete with the seems
  Into a concord of true harmony.
And as you play, I note just how composed
  You are, how all the strain falls from your eyes,
And how, beneath your cat-mouth, is exposed
  A smile born out of passion and surprise
     Because, in these harsh streets, you’ve finally met
     A mate to mate with in a choice duet.

Copyright 2010 Matthew J Wells