TWO CLASSICS

Enchant a classic on strings, as ghosts.
Dazedly, I try to hold down the notes.
They run, fly, spread, as song motes.
In painful, blindness, I feel the corners,
the air, the universe. Almost foreigners.
Palms clap. I can't catch the performers.
Where do these sounds go together?
In which worlds do they stop forever?
In which sob do they rhyme?... If ever?
In which smile do they mix much clever?
I wish I could hold them to build a necklace.
Or something softer, but beautiful as a lace.
Even, who knows, a small ring full of grace?...
I would then present your light neck
or your thin, tenuous finger, I spec.
It’d be right for the union of two classics.
And more inspiration for other classics.