The night is bright with rays of pallid gold
that's shining down from Heaven and its moon.
In a room, amidst amber lamps, behold
a lone musician performing a tune.

His melodies are twinkling stars amid
such deep, dark, rolling waves of bassy chords;
arpeggios dance, so strong and fluid
as he weaves harmonies and fine discord.

His audience is none but him alone;
a pity no one else is there to hear
such heavenly music of nuanced tone.
Except: he wanted nobody else here.

A nighttime practice run is intimate;
even more when filled with songs delicate.