The Pianist
Blue fingers smooth strings
dawn breaks on ivory keys
notes dance in the air.
His fingers tell tales
walk the keyboard high to low
sounding out its depths.
Hope’s frayed ends he braids
music circles his body
stands to defend him.
His demons roil
beneath a rumpled surface
his life comes in drips
Sips of cold water
he doesn’t use anymore
drugs bring a bad end.
They stop music’s flow
cauterize the addiction
burn it for music.
He plays now for us
quiet hushes crowded streets
stopped commuters’ hear.
Listen to a song
a lonely heart finds solace
in symphonic arms.
~ ~ ~
For TLT Week 11, the Sunday Whirl’s Wordle #246 & Six for Wednesday – 2
Wow. This poem, his life, his thoughts, are like a continuous melody that just flows. Great! 🙂
Thank you 🙂 I thought the same thing 🙂
yay! glad i got the message. 😀
🙂 you always do
Yay! ❤
🙂
I like the second and third stanza’s a lot. I hope he keeps away from the drugs for good so that he can keep playing for us. Beautiful write.
Thank you 🙂 I think he will. His confession had that feel to it.
How beautifully you started Mel, and the way you flowed, like a melodious dream and brought it to a close like an unfinished divine symphony..leaves me wanting more.
Absolutely breathtaking!!
Thank you 🙂
Delightful denouement! 😉 Hugs!
Thank you! 🙂
I love “Hope’s frayed ends he braids” – Brilliant!
Thank you 🙂 I love that line too
🙂
Ohh loved this! Just priceless! Wonderful my dear friend!
Thank you 🙂
🙂 🙂
Beautiful Melinda. The picture you paint of this guy is awesome and extremely detailed.
thank you 🙂 I had a clear picture of him when I wrote this.
Brilliant. The second stanza is my favorite.
Thank you 🙂
Always!
🙂