deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Pianist
Puppet masters’ fingers blindly move with grace
Where I am blind she sees
Where I am stone she weeps
Her world is a symphony
While for me it is a just a page
Waiting to be written
To her old world grace
Where I am blind she sees
Where I am stone she weeps
Her world is a symphony
While for me it is a just a page
Waiting to be written
To her old world grace
Published 1st Jan 2014
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1st Jan 2014 6:04pm
