Praying upon the prelude
the crowd sits and waits for instruction
as one sole soul fills the room with soul.
Fingers can mirror the natural flow
while the heart flutters by
in a room organized with rows
oh how sweet is woe
to make us feel like this
this is just one end of the pole
the shadow kiss
which makes me miss
laden eternal bliss
a promise to myself
I must return
If it’s the concerto’s wish.
Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.
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