Piano Lesson

A melody and you expressing it,
your life evolving to an end, where
dark metres drift unheard

at the edge of it. The hard line
unfolds parted by its single note,
no echo's accomplished even now.

In our high room the polished notes
close in. I hear too often
your frailty masked with passion.

Roland John The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.