A woman and her piano
On a street corner on a cold day. She sits at a piano Dressed in her own way. Grey hair blowing wild and free. I watch her in wonder. I wonder who she used to be. As her weathered and aged hands move along the keys. A ghost of a young woman appears For all of us to see. Did she once play in grand halls? Did rich men once come to call? Or was music her only love? Soaring above all others like a dove? You have suffered heartache, homelessness and loss. But for you, music never suffered a cost. With a smile on your face You said music was every where. No matter where you went You found a piano here and there. You are one with your music Your piano. You showed many you cared. You inspire me. You remind me of who I want to be. You are music in a human form. You are truly free.