Piano Concerto No.3 in D minor
Sad days come upon me,
They are clouds as if a wall.
They blow into my soul and give no forecast.
I’d cry on the outside if I could, but only a dry desert of dissolution pour for you.
I cannot be that man on the screen,
He is just a cartoonist’ imagination to me.
To be myself is all I have,
I offer no apologies.
I have paid my pound of flesh,
Life lessons and hard knock dues.
I will take my time,
And adore from a far.
To be a poet prisoner of eternity, lost words, and wars is what I have and what is cherished.
There is a time and place for everyone,
And I pray that is true.
I am lost in translations and banter, and shall study for the words,
To speak and comprehend you.