Blue Nocturne in an Arched Room

In cobalt hush, a lone hand finds the key, The arched alcove holds time in measured blue. Round planets drift like notes that will not flee, While ribbed walls breathe a slow, unending hue. His striped suit listens more than it will speak, The piano waits, a tide of tempered sound. Each muted chord becomes a polished peak, And silence turns to circles hovering round.