Tryst

An old piano sits against the wall where memories remain
tucked in every time worn crevice.

The curious mob had gone onto pastures new
so fickle in their care
and yet…
And yet she knew no other way to be.

This was she.

This was how it was meant to be, and
to behave any differently was impossible.

She breathed a jettison of quiet reflection
into the crisp of night.

Yes, this was how it had always been
she is the one who walks our dreams
who lives between the parting tides
of dreamscape and reality.

Some would call her Angel of the night
for,
she leaves a celestial touch to ageing hearts
to slow them, to quieten and finally, to still
as she wanders among the halls of sleeping
haunting those who go with songs
of ancient earth and
choosing those who’ll stay with her
in trysts that last forever.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with Three Word Wednesday CCXLV111
The Poetry Palace Rally #57

Thanks for this award
To all of you who work hard
And bring this about

I would like to nominate Lynnaima: Life Between the Lines