Jan 2015
The fall board is closed, protecting the ivory keys which once sent the sounds of songs echoing through this room, this house, this city. The keys are broken…
Can you understand the song I am trying to play here, broken fingers touching broken keys on a piano long past its prime. Its a song I once wrote for you when you needed to hear something alive.
I can sense the walls closing in and the broken strings snapping as the chipped ivories fall to the ground beneath the pedals by my feet.
Little children – dancing to the music though the music is off. Can they sense the beauty that once sprung from these fingers, these keys – those strings? I hear in the distance sirens, echoing through the city, into this building and settling in this room.
My fingers have healed and the keys are still broken – can I play a song for you just to see you move slowly to the rhythm?
I once believed in forever – now the echoes are screaming a finality – but isnt it true that something written, something played and something enjoyed truly lasts forever?
Music with broken keys – has its own beauty, its own identity and thousands of meanings, emotions – like an old painting sitting on the corner of the room.
I sense your beauty…
Dance for me – though the darkness is thick I can still hear your heart beating like a metronome forever in time – come close let me feel your heart against mine…beating in rhythm as one.
The piano keys may be broken but the music will play on…throughout the halls, the streets and the canyons of this city. The echoes of love and laughter forever.
Can you understand the song I am trying to play here, broken fingers touching broken keys on a piano long past its prime. Its a song I once wrote for you when you needed to hear something alive.
I can sense the walls closing in and the broken strings snapping as the chipped ivories fall to the ground beneath the pedals by my feet.
Little children – dancing to the music though the music is off. Can they sense the beauty that once sprung from these fingers, these keys – those strings? I hear in the distance sirens, echoing through the city, into this building and settling in this room.
My fingers have healed and the keys are still broken – can I play a song for you just to see you move slowly to the rhythm?
I once believed in forever – now the echoes are screaming a finality – but isnt it true that something written, something played and something enjoyed truly lasts forever?
Music with broken keys – has its own beauty, its own identity and thousands of meanings, emotions – like an old painting sitting on the corner of the room.
I sense your beauty…
Dance for me – though the darkness is thick I can still hear your heart beating like a metronome forever in time – come close let me feel your heart against mine…beating in rhythm as one.
The piano keys may be broken but the music will play on…throughout the halls, the streets and the canyons of this city. The echoes of love and laughter forever.
