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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1398795
A musician's weekend, alone.
Weekend

I wake up to the taste of coffee,
         or of tea simmering to the brim;
of children playing,
with tiny wooden sandals
         slapping down
         our earth.

All life’s music whispers hence,
         and roots itself within:
a melody has found itself
perched on a lonely piano, and
         as one soul
         we play.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1398795-Weekend