Strings of Nature

How delicate should I be

for me to play on the strings of a spider’s web?

Will I be able to hear the sad harmony

played on these fine lines?

Or are the small creatures of this world

the only ones to enjoy the sweet melancholy

coming out from my worn-out and stained fingertips?

Will they unite

to listen to the stories

of a heart that barely survived?

Grand piano

White and black keys,

Smooth and curved around the edges,

Sharp and blunt when required.

A grand piano.

He plays me well, you see.

So soft and delicately.

Rhythmical and full of emotions.

Sensational and sad at times.

Powerful half way through his piece.

The deaf would be cured if they heard.

He’s avoiding the final note

And he repeats the chorus again.

I am full of life within his hands.

And he reaches the last part

And I dread his fingers leaving mine.

Now he stands to give a bow,

But finishes with a kiss on my fall.