My hands flow over the keys,
Testing the chords,
Deciding what I want,
This composition to say.
Surroundings and myself,
Join as one,
As the music plays,
As I find the expression.
The pedal is pressed down,
To hold onto that one note,
The lovely moment lasts,
To emphasize that some part of my composition was pleasant.
One hand moves quickly,
At the same time another part of my body,
Moves slowly, doing other things.
And they weave to form the music.
Some of my composition,
Is slow and sweet,
Others deep and angry,
As I sit and tell a story with my hands.
Some people adore my piece,
Others detest it.
And yet the composition does not change,
It is the same combinations, confident in itself.
Oh, how this piano piece is so like life,
My composition of emotions.
To be loved by some,
To have so many activities all at once.
The melody is simple,
What lies beneath different.
I can decide,
What I want my composition of life to say.
I can hold the memory pedal down,
To keep the precious moments I treasure.
Life, all just a tangle of music,
Each piece different, yet all music.
As the last chord dies away,
My composition, my life, will be judged.
Standing ovation or not, it will always be,
My life, written on the barlines of time.