• Elegant hands stretching across a stream of white and black,
    Lovely sounds are being produced from such a beautiful attack.

    Harmonic chords and melodies are flying from the keys,
    Nothing in the world can stop her melancholy harmonies.

    Echoing flats and singing sharps fill the singing hall with despair,
    As the hands continue to fly across the keys of the piano ever fair.

    The crowd sits in awed silence at the talented display,
    Not an eye in the audience would dare try look away.

    Her hands appear to once again glide across the ever moving keys,
    Her voice fills out the singing hall, now a joyous song of glees.

    A low yet pretty voice she has, like the singing of a lark,
    Her voice has taken aim and struck, hitting everyone in the heart.

    The strands of silver golden hair fall over into her face,
    She hits the last chord of the piece, still lost in her own place.

    Her voice rings out, like a clarion call, across the barbaric room,
    Silence reigns for moments still, before the sounding of a boom.

    The audience roars in awed excitement to the performer on the stage,
    She merely bows and stares in odd amusement at their escapades.

    She doesn’t understand their applause, their happiness at her song,
    She thought she had messed up her piece, though there was nothing wrong.

    It was just a song she had wrote for her love, who was forever there to stay,
    For now, though, she would accept their praise, content merely to play.