I Can Hear The Piano Play

I hear the piano playing.
A soft melody of most gentle notes,
A score that reaches the most deaf of men
And merits tears from so heavily guarded hearts.


How bitter-sweet the harmony is,
That such beautiful chords,
Should be the anthem of the tragedy;
The tide of the river of tears.
The rippling effects of sadness,
Told by a devastating graceful melody.


Every man knows the price of Spring;
For new life to grow from the ashes of Winter,
The fallen brethren of the Autumn death
Must be wept upon by the Heavens.
Cry, Heavens, cry. Shed your sad tears.
For life is not without its tragedy;
Just as death is not without some hope.


The tears fall to the keys of the piano,
As they dance with the grace of ballet;
Each note though played oft'
Sounds with a new heartfelt presence,
The snowflakes of the sad score.
Perfect and unique; the cold tears of sweet music.


And I know that one day,
I will hear the final chords play,
But the river continues to flow,
And so we continue with the show.
I know that my story doesn't end here,
For I can still hear the piano play.