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.