REFLECTIONS IN BLUE
"Within a hidden grove, a lake serene, Its waters mirror skies of blue, pristine. Untouched by worldly hustle’s ceaseless hum, It whispers secrets to the leaves that come.
Three birds, their wings dipped in ivory grace, Sail o’er the surface, leaving trails of lace. Are they messengers from realms beyond our sight, Guardians of this sacred, tranquil site?
Emerald reeds sway, weaving ancient tales, Their whispers echo through the misty veils. Trees, gnarled and wise, stretch toward the heavens high, Roots etched with memories as time drifts by.
At dawn, the canvas shifts—a mystic dance, The mist unveils the heart’s enchanting trance. Reality blurs, reflections merge and blend, Earth and sky dissolve, boundaries transcend.
The lake remains, a sanctuary’s embrace, Where dreamers find solace, poets trace. Silent witness to life’s ebb and flow, Its name, a secret shared by winds that blow."
The Old Piano
In a room where shadows dance and sway,
An old piano, silent, lay.
Its keys, once lively, now at rest,
Echoes of jazz it knew the best.
An old piano, silent, lay.
Its keys, once lively, now at rest,
Echoes of jazz it knew the best.
A musician with hands, wrinkled and wise,
Played notes that would rise to the skies.
Together they spun melodies bold,
A dance of the spirits, untethered, uncontrolled.
Played notes that would rise to the skies.
Together they spun melodies bold,
A dance of the spirits, untethered, uncontrolled.
The piano’s pedals, worn but proud,
Still whisper tunes aloud.
In every groove and every grain,
Resides a symphony of joy and pain.
Still whisper tunes aloud.
In every groove and every grain,
Resides a symphony of joy and pain.
Though years have passed and times have changed,
The song of souls remains unchained.
For in this space where silence reigns,
The old piano still contains,
The song of souls remains unchained.
For in this space where silence reigns,
The old piano still contains,
A world where notes are stars alight,
And every chord takes flight.
To a time when jazz was king,
And pianos and souls would sing.
And every chord takes flight.
To a time when jazz was king,
And pianos and souls would sing.
