The Piano Man

Black and white is too severe with no ascending
gradation.
Fingers dance a rolling jig and spin a tone
sensation.
Language alive in digits alone speaks a
sonorous tongue.
His music – a song never written; a song
always sung.

The words we seek are ineffective – failed
communication.
Verbal trash cannot replace antiquity’s stimulation.
Hammers fall on tense strings; smiles in
the hospital room.
Twinkling chimes, repeated rhymes, pierce
the amnesiac gloom.

 

 

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