Ivory Song

What an instrument so grand!

Its gentle sound is never bland.

88 keys, black and white,

Their rich songs bring joyful light.

Carry the delightful songs,

With them, melt all your troubled wrongs.

Listen to each soaring note,

Over each listener's head to float.

The musician's fingers twist,

A sudden chord, full of musical mist.

The fingers press on,

Determined to finish their ivory song.

The musician's foot pushes a pedal,

The notes carry each other,

Each seeming to meddle,

Joining hands with another.

The song reaches a great upsurge, soaring by,

The notes, forward, eagerly fly,

The musician relaxes, calmed by his song,

You realize now it won't be long.

His fingers slowly draw the keys to rest.

The song has long passed its crest.

The skillful hands draw away,

Another day, another place, again to play.

The musician stands, sweeps a bow,

It seems that he is leaving now.

His ivory song, though far gone,

Shall remain in your mind forever long.