She was alone and she was gifted. She could stop gyration of the earth from her music. She lonely used to play her piano in her little shelter by side of river. I, every day listened her music and every time I heard, I was lost.
I am once again lost when she does not play anymore. God knows where she has gone. But wherever she has, her music always echoes in my ears and steps down into my soul. I miss The Piano Girl.
I knew a damsel, in my neighborhood,
Her hut was across; in meadows, past wood
Magic in pinkish fingers, pre-blessed by God
Which became preternatural, by nature’s applaud.
Her fingers flew, on keys like breeze
Birds stopped chirping, rivers did freeze
She had no companion, to listen to her song
Lonely played harmony, and sobbed along.
One day I by chance, happened to listen her tune
“Collect firewood,” when mother ordered; my fortune!
Arpeggios; born in piano, sailed through on air,
Melodious than an ode, delicious than éclair.
Stood I un-blinked, forgot heart to pound,
Earth impeded to gyrate, heavenly soothing sound.
That was the day, and the day is this
I went every day, none chance did I miss
Indulged in her music, lost in compositions
Between me and her, piano became preposition
That was a day, and a day is this
Where is she gone? Crave! How much I miss.
Some say she sings in the court of heaven
Some said her songs were the holy daven.
Wherever ye hath gone, I feel thy harmony
Aft never heard, that marvelous symphony.
-November, 2011
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