What goes on in your glowing head
when you sit in front of your harp
eyes wide shut your fingers thread
and pluck, syncing with our heart

the way you majestically play
fills my ears with angelic tones
stunned, I can't look away
from your heavenly flowing bones

Harp forged from Hephaestus' gold
pluck and pick easy as a river's flow
soft harmonies of Philip Glass enfold
and just for a moment, forgotten woes