September Showers - Asteria Valentine

poem read by Timothy Arliss OBrien

September Showers
Asteria Valentine

The dirt cakes against the alabaster of my forearm,

turning it a dingy, sickly shade of blue-gray.

My hair falls like gossamer webbing,

spun by a spider long gone.

The wind and rain come to wash it all away,

but I’m too complacent to leave my computer,

too anchored to move,

tip tap, tip tap—

no, not rain, but keys ringing out.

If it were a piano,

it would be the saddest sonata you've ever heard, 

a melody played to empty rooms and the quiet hum of the rain or the keys, 

I'm not sure anymore.

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