A.M.Lacey

whomever that may be,

my bound wings set finally free. 

Yet behind lay my bruised soul, 

a shell, a ghost, a blank page.

As empty notes fell on my shades of blue,

The silent echoes from the chamber faded,

The dull cries of the Night-Ride grew,

A faith lost from a performance so jaded.

Then, entered a pianist of such skill,

The unforgiving world stood still.

Tears pooled in a delicate whirlwind of black and white,

Who would have thought that music could reach such heights?

In a playful dance, the sun rays beamed,

It was here that the night was redeemed.

The sureness of his touch across the keys,

To seal away a life so young