Echo.

4 am writing lol late

I have a grand piano

That sits alone

But sometimes at night

We keep eachother's company.

I tread over

and let my hands take over,

There are hundreds of songs

I could play.

Instead the song

my mother taught me

When I was young

Spills out of my hands.

Into the keys

And out of the strings,

Spills my childhood dreams

And the love I used to have.

I sit there for hours

Trying to play loud enough

To make that old love

Echo.

Author's Note

swag

Reviews

[plainme]

This is a wonderful piece of writing. It's so enjoyable to read. I love it! Well done, great flow!

[Tai Ryens]

A love that dissipates as maturity furthers, but is fossilized within the grand piano and the memories attached to it . . . Well done, Kristin! This was truly lovely.

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T..]

swag... what an author's note, but the poem is really very readable. The message is salient, subdued and yet not without a mature, subtle flavor. I like it quit a lot.

100 vibrating strings

[POETIC SOUL 2013]

this is beautiful, i know i often times feel at peace playing a rendition of Mozzart Or beethoven Excellent write :)

[Kristin]

thank you!!! yeah my mom taught me this song when i was like around 5 or 6 and whenever im on a piano besides the sheet music i can use and the other songs i know i naturally always play that song unless someone asks me to play something else

[POETIC SOUL 2013]

nice to know their are still good musicians out there :)