Music My Friend

Music is a part of the soul
A part to help one's heart be whole.
Tones like color weave through the mind
Imprinting memories or reviewing time.

The harp stands naked, the piano bare
The violin waits for it's bow over there.
Against the corner hides the xylophone
But I remember the sounds and tones.

Fingers lightly trip over the keys
Rippling faster then slower they ring
Melodious echoes bounce off the walls
Beyond the ceiling all around the great hall.

Crescendo's crash, into a silent weep
Quiet music plays on; no one makes a  peep.
Spellbound, enraptured the audience waits
Hands paused in purpose now drops down with grace.

Pounding with precision the fingers lunge
Resounding with feeling as the two become one.
The heart of the music is the one in command
Sweeping with emotion the musician demands.

Silence now for all is stunned, the poignant piece
Has been played and sung.
For through the fingers, the heart was displayed
The tools were just instruments
And life was the stage. 

Linda S. Burger