The piano’s playing on the low end,
the notes coming out plaintive, soft and slow.
Violins sigh, making me want to cry,
then here comes the Cello, and there I go.
I don’t understand the words she’s singing,
though I know they’re as solemn as an oath.
Her voice reaches part of me forgotten.
To her earnestness, my spirit is troth.
So lost in her melodic enchantment,
as my heart is gently carried along,
rocking back and forth, my soul savoring,
oblivious to the ending of song.
M. Zane McClellan
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