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Music is wine that fills the cup of silence
Music is wine that fills the cup of silence
Her fingers long and tapered
Skimmed over the keys
More like a caress on the cheek
Black and white alternating
Like an old man's teeth
Oblivious to her surroundings
Played the notes from memory
Beethoven's fifth symphony
Her fingers creating magic
As we listened rapturously
Her classes no one missed
She was strict, disciplined
Known to throw out students
If they so
much as giggled
In her class silence reigned
Wanted so much to learn music
Parents couldn't afford the fees
Advised to concentrate on studies
In the long run, would be to my benefit
So, I missed being a Pianist
To this day, whenever I hear
Vibrations of the strings
Of the eight eight piano keys
I regret not being given an opportunity
To learn this art of creating music
