Wednesday, 2 December 2009

The Pianist - Holly Prest

Time stops, a soul moves.

Weak arms and a strong heart burn,

Squinting eyes in the smoke,

Buckling legs.

Timbers fall as white hot flames crack,

Wood creaks,

Sounds alter, intentions finding their release in brilliant light.

Lost words and shouts,

Serenity runs in the air,

Change hangs

Perfectly late hits of brittle hammers on aging strings.

Everything is black and white.

Lush hills, proud crops, clovers,

Kestrels soar under a thunderous sky,

Dandelions, skeletons reborn on the wind.

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