It must’ve been the wind,
Or the sound of the rain,
Or something in between,
The notes that I was playing.
But, sat to play the keys,
Black and white, eight at night,
The tempest was the melody,
Beethoven’s rhythmic right.
In a very sudden way I sensed,
A wave of emotions coming through,
I saw my rhythm slowing the dance
Same notes played, but gentle and blue.
A bit confused, I then continued,
And played peacefully until the end,
But never had my hands produced,
A sound so profound and eloquent.
At the very last note I realized,
I wasn’t playing all alone,
There was a sort of resonance,
Breezing the room to change the tone.
There was a presence I was feeling,
Someone’s energy coming by to listen,
Who liked the piece in slower beating,
At the last note the keyboard glistened.
I thought it could’ve been anyone,
From past, present and future too,
But the presence felt so close in heart,
And at the very last note, I knew it was you.
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