Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Another Poem

This one I won a contest with, no money, but it will be published.

Pianist

Fingers thrusting
Dancing
Tickling the cold white keys
Breathing life
Into their forms
Like clay beneath the hands of the master potter
They are molded
Producing the perfect
Sound
What passion is in the eyes of the pianist
The true pianist
And now I see why

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