The Happy Sound of Yamaha
His piano is not played often
as yesterday was, and when it does, the happy sound of Yamaha
lets him enter a fascinating world made up of time clefs, of notes
and chords that imagination
creates on instant thought...
while he contemplates Nature!
If his body is old, his spirit is young
and it can go on until those weary fingers
won't or can't play anymore;
and doesn't desire palpitate in his anxious heart...
leading it where it wants to go as an eagle soaring
past the hills of a radiant sunrise?
On February the sixth, another year will be added
to the calendar of that man engulfed by loneliness,
but he despairs not when he plays his piano
that soothes his pain, comforting him with hope,
allowing his senses to invigorate as morning
greets the happy sound of Yamaha!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
