Poem Of the Week: The Pianist

Credit: 3.bp.blogspot.com

 

Another song yet to play

Maybe a breath left or

A chorus for the heartbeat away

Gradually she fades like my memory

From colours to black and white

Long forgotten scenery

Melody he makes for falling soldiers at war

For widows, the lost children

Sorrowful voice from an open door

Like the fog at night

Their souls we welcome

For our right we crave

In the name of freedom, we fight to the grave

Pictures of my mind I paint

Through rythms, whispers so faint

My all I’ve lost, my heart can’t trust

Silence of the mist

With eyes open, into my fears I fall

I am The Pianist.

 

 

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