Mr Piano Man
He was just a piano player, they’d say,
But he knew the songs to make hearts sway.
Fingers dancing, light as air,
He found the magic hidden there.
In smoky rooms with soft, dim light,
He played for souls throughout the night.
Every note, a story told,
Of love, of loss, and dreams of gold.
He needed no fame, no grand applause,
Just the joy of sound, his only cause.
For though he was just a player, it’s true,
He played the songs that healed me and you.
So when the keys fell silent one day,
His music lingered, it couldn’t decay.
For he was just a player, it’s true,
But long after he died, we loved him through
The songs he wrote, the songs we sing,
A timeless gift, a lasting thing.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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By Sandor Szabo5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Go job on describing this creative person.