Each key turns the touch to a key turning me into this what I see and what I see are the musical notes floating by.
Grown men can cry.
Where music fills the heart and soul and the whole brings peace.
Oh, but there’s an eloquence to the scribbles jotted down on scraps of paper,
those thoughts that come in a hot wave that we save to look back on.
Each finger on a key has the power to unlock me and the musical notes float on by.
© 2015, John Smallshaw.