Mr. Piano Man

Mr. Piano Man

Mr. Piano man, an ocean dances
in your aquamarine eyes,
swimming might save me.
Or I could sink into oblivion.

Long fingers command keyboards.
Cole Porter tunes, Lady Day blues?
I’ll pretend cigarette smoke
brings lonely tears to my eyes.

My pain is for Sgt. Clare O’Reilly,
returned from World War Two,
killed in the popular "line of duty",
what remains in a pine box with a flag.

In the streets, confetti flies.
Strangers hug and kiss.
Happy for them, really I am.
I just want someone to love me.

Mr. Piano man, you should smile.
Read my lonely sapphire eyes.
I am drowning in self pity.
A lonely lady with too many martinis.

Time to rejoice, we are free
from hellish pain of this fight.
Living skeletons in camps have hope.
My Clare paid the ultimate price.

Have we finally learned,
the horrific price of war?
The death, destruction of innocent lives,
in the final tally, what was it for?

Mr. Piano man, don’t make me beg.
I can show a guy a good time.
Just watch my tongue lick red lips
I tease and caress the olive.

We can slip between cool covers.
I will close my eyes, as we gently kiss.
Taste the salt of my tears.
If I call you Clare, forgive me this.

By Kathie Stehr