I love the smell of a great piano
It smells like dusty wood and felt
A special musical instrument smell
That only some can recognize
When I place my hands on the keys
Pressing in rhythmic time certain ones
Music lifts me to another plane
A place where worry doesn't go
The pounding of the keys
Such joy and arbitrary happiness
The sound beats out everything
My mind is freed from bondage
Freedom lifts me high
Carries me far away from here
And the smell of dusty wood and felt
Has made me truly free
YOU ARE READING
I See Through
PoetryPoetic musings of Barry Tudor on life and introspection. A journey of a motorcycling American poet lost in the midst of his own country. Hellish past. Glorious present.
