I sit at the Piano,and have done so for well nigh 50 years now,
Yes,there are all the notes of the orchestra at my disposal.
My fingers glide slowly ,but with deliberation,over the keys,
Those “songs in the key of Lfe”as Stevie penned in the 1970s.
As I improvised ,memories popped into my head,messages were read,
Playing notes,not playing others ,delicately feels no the hand on my shoulder of my supporters.
Why yes,playing can be lonely,but the emotional release is tantamount to tears,ivory tears,
So,I drench the keys with my emotions,and there is so much after 50 years.
Listening to the phrases,the silence in between the notes,I feel hope,
That blazing realisation that I have a speck of talent,a nucleus from childhood.
My ivory tears are spent,my playing falls silent in the midst of a remembered masterpiece ,
Yes,”Jesus dwelt within my fingers and massaged my soul,such talent that the world won now behold.
Why does the world knock its artists,its sensitive souls,when they are the ones that make the rest truly whole,
Fore where would we be without musicians and artists ?
They tell us what it’s like to be :Human.