A Poem for Tchaikovsky

hearing it in my mind,
autumn's song played
on a distant piano-
smooth keys
gently touched
by fingers who have known
many seasons...
the passion of summer,
the desperation of winter,
the hope of spring-
now he strokes the ivory
once again,
telling his tale
of yet another red leaf,
another windy afternoon,
another still morning,
another harvest moon...