Here is another poem I wrote recently, I'm not going to go in order anymore I'll just do what I feel like. So I really like this poem but if there's any way I could make it better...?
The piano sits across the room
its cover closed so as to think its sleeping.
But I can still hear an echo of the song
feel the smooth keys beneath my fingures
and that quiet peace is still there.
A peace like the sunset
or rain on a summers eve,
a peace like the sea and the
clear, blue sky.
Its like trying to catch mist
or holding light in your hands,
Its one of the few things that poetry
cannot put into words.
And so we come back to music
time and time again
songs that make us feel wonderful
and in the depths of despair.
But always the peace is there.
The piano is still closed - apparently sleeping.
but all around it - I can see it clearly now -
are not the echoes of songs, but joy.