The Piano Man

Tall dark and handsome
(how cliché but so true),
he wore a burgundy vest
with his suit of dark blue.

Intensely brown eyes
and a quick witted grin
with the most wonderful laugh
that came from within.

But those slender hands
brought a smile to my face:
Intrepid and resolute,
yet used with such grace.

As he sat on the bench
in front of the keys
I watched those hands work
as they danced and they teased.

With eyes shut tight
as he played and he played;
his soul pouring forth-
such a trenchant cascade.

From that slender touch
came a sound so very sweet;
purely innocent (purely flawless)
without guile or deceit.

Those hands; those fingers;
this man; these chocolate eyes
caused my body to ache
with the music- my lone sigh.

He played the song
of my soul and his
essences intwined.
So imperfect (what is?)

Such a lissome grasp-
an ivory touch through the grime
moving walls of emotion;
the fortress of time.

As the notes receded
into anxious silence
his choclate eyes look
at me- so very intense.

Only a gaze breaks the still
and with slight hesitation came
the whisper of a smooth voice
“What, my dear, is your name?”

(note: this did not really happen or anything…I just randomly made it up… lolz. I got the idea from a part of a book I read the other day. And it was also inspired by a certain piano playing person I met. )


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