My Musician Poem by Aileen Davis

Music grows in side the soul as the live it fills grows and grows,
it becomes a seed as it flows with in thy,
the beauty of a clear spring breeze,
the flowing of a flowering pond,
the sweet songs of a golden harp,
as it grows into man the music he plays will tough us all,
he is what we are suppose to be,
because the music has grown deep with in he,
for sorrow and pain from joy to laugh,
to love and passion you will feel as he plays his passioanit songs.