ON HEARING SCHUBERT TRIO IN B FLAT

Remember,
Her brother
When they tried to play
The awkward phrases,

Precious, for what they so loved
Is what mattered most.

And yet
Are these moments
Only in music
On the dusty mind, to be

Sixteen
Again and believing

For it did not matter
What they did not know
Or could not do.

Now moments drop
As a spider
Down
From its web
Tentative against cracked
The splintered door

Unbelieving,
Could the undone phrases
Still stand against their backs?