Silhouette and Smoke

This morning I woke
(after too many afternoons and evenings of it)
And learned a song,
One of those that you showed me.

Fingers move in a
Delicate choreography,
Staccato rain on tin can lids
Gently guided
By steady, sinister glory.

For a moment, I see like you see.

Sometimes this flâneur's life
Is so pierced and filled with beauty
I need to divert some of it here
So I don't drown everyone in it.

The beauty is you
and if it were
More than merely
Alluded to
I'm not sure
What I would do.

But one thing is sure. Better days have come. They've been here for months.