The smell of wood fills my stomach
As I walk towards the Piano
The feel of the soft, black cushion
As I sit
The touch of the milky white keys,
As I begin to play
Music fills the air, in sweet, flowing
Blooms
A gentle tickle,
As wind blows in from an open window
The sound of my playing and my mother's
Cooking
Creates a symphony of a soft, quiet, sizzle,
A light whoosh,
And a melody so sweet,
A child's mouth would water
A tune of music, a series of notes, a new world
A burst of new flavors
A sudden dynamic
A swoop of notes and melodies
Flow through the air
The song is finished
When I am done, I put the music away
They whisper: "Play me again, play me again."
I smile and say I will
And gently close the lid
My music and spirit are gone
But I promise to play tomorrow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem.Feels like you are playing piano with the poem