A record slides from within its sleeve
palm supported to the deck;
the needle descends,
he takes his place
to where she curls up with that special face.
While reaching down to pull him off
he stays her hand for Rachmaninov,
a musical climax steadily building,
his spirit soaring.
Something about his isolation worries her
as he closes his eyes;
she sulks a little as the music rolls on.
She needs him more than ever now,
but he knows that musical moments like this
should not be spoiled by carnal bliss.