The Prodigy

The Prodigy

A Poem by Andromeda
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He played the piano with

All the grace of a ballet dancer

All the passion of Beethoven’s Fifth.

His fingers danced

Upon the keys,

Whose ivory chuckled with delight

At his most gentle touch.

 

The notes that came from

Somewhere beyond his soul

Shivered in the air above his head

And tears formed in the eyes

Of all in the gathered throng.

 

But, at seven,

He was

Much too young

To understand this fallen angel’s song—

Merely gloried in the music

That tickled in his fingers on the keys.

 

© 2008 Andromeda


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Added on March 10, 2008

Author

Andromeda
Andromeda

About
I never know what to put in these sections. so... Me= KIM Poetic Epiphany Jesus Freak Type 1 diabetic Aspiring writer Artist Soccer player and referee Music lover Movie fanatic Good friend.. more..

Writing
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A Poem by Andromeda