As my fingers rest on the keys, <br />Preparing for the song, <br />I close my eyes. <br /> <br />I visualize the song, <br />Hearing the melody in my mind, <br />And I close off my mind. <br /> <br />I simply stop thinking, <br />And let the music, my soul, and my fingers, <br />Do all the work. <br /> <br />My fingers begin the journey, <br />Flying through the keys, <br />Like cheetas. <br /> <br />The music fills me, <br />And I drift off, <br />Into the beautiful harmony. <br /> <br />My fingers soften, <br />Into an Andante pianissimo. <br />And a ralentando takes into affect. <br /> <br />As a decresendo takes me, <br />To a near-impossible pianississimo, <br />I pause, and jump into fortissimo. <br /> <br />The pace quickens to Presto, <br />With a cresendo livening up the feeling, <br />Marcatos are suddenly followed by rests. <br /> <br />Without warning, my fingers fly into 64th notes, <br />And I keep it up, even in cut-time. <br />The audience is awed, but I haven't even breaked a sweat. <br /> <br />Finally, the song ends with an arpeggio, <br />Growing louder in the room and in the soul, <br />Until one, quite Minor chord ends the song. <br /> <br />For the first time in, <br />-What,5 min., I can't even tell- <br />I open my eyes. <br /> <br />The vibrations are still heard, <br />within the room, <br />and the audience erupts with clapping. <br /> <br />I bow and my smile beams, <br />but it is not the attention that gets to me. <br />It is the music. <br /> <br />The melodies and chords, <br />They are my life. <br />Music is in my soul. <br /> <br />Music is my soul.<br /><br />Zander William Pearson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-piano-6/
