often prayers of man.
Replaced by shifting tide
and ebb of sand.
whose beaten hearts
the heft of Hitler's war,
Anticipating each half-note he brings
to life, her fingers stretch to find the grooves.
Perfection springs, as sound is bounced from strings,
then quickly as Baryshnikov she moves.
We moved through a city
whose neon lights flashed
life on the street,
obscure to some;
Her scepter raised in majesty, she dares
to rule this jeweled star Britannia though
dark eyes of former Kings and current heirs,
gaze down on her from portraits. Does she know