The Pianist
A soft sound hovers through the corridor
And hops down the stairs to the hall
As I arrive home and i know it must be him Playing;
The man I love; conquerer of my heart, My soul
And soon my body: Not to worry for I - in my way-
Too conquer His: his heart, his soul and soon his body.
The music he plays is soft and perfect
Melody,
We think that'll be the name of our child
Melody,
If we have a girl,
But if we have a boy
We're not quite sure what to call him,
Medici,
Valentine,
D'artagnon,
Have all been thrown around,
But we havent decided yet,
I guess we shall know when I see him,
If i see him, we might have a girl.
But not to worry, that shant happen for a while.
I nervously place my bag down,
And follow the music up the stairs Tiptoing in my heels,
Until i realise what It is my love is playing,
Moon River,
Softly upon the old piano in his room,
Our room now,
Where i write and paint while he plays,
Piano, and sometimes I sing with it.
I tilt my head to look through the door
And watch for a moment as he plays
And slowly he finishes as I walked Behind him
And place my hand
On his shoulder and kissed his neck.
Weβre after the same Rainbows end.
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