It is 'Clair de Lune'
and your fingers touching
those keys
and the way you moved each
from one note to another
The walls are painted black,
like the piano,
and that you, are within these walls
with me, playing that piece,
is more beautiful than the piece itself.
The walls resound with music
and my head echos another.
I love the music
but not as much as I love the one who plays it.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 9:14 PM UTC
It is 'Clair de Lune'
and your fingers touching
those keys
and the way you moved each
from one note to another
The walls are painted black,
like the piano,
and that you, are within these walls
with me, playing that piece,
is more beautiful than the piece itself.
The walls resound with music
and my head echos another.
I love the music
but not as much as I love the one who plays it.