When She Plays Piano

She always makes me work,
Sifting through memories
Of meeting her in the tea room
With my questions and recorder

The chords are sharp,
Like she’s stabbing you in the neck
Sometimes, with a lavender bolt
And you just feel her beauty

The Japanese beauty,
Where people are just part of nature
Which exists on a grander scale
As the morning sun scales the mountains

And people are just notes,
Black and white keys,
Something Yoko touches
When she plays piano