Inspiration

                        Photograph: DovieMoon

Piano

  Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
  Taking me back down the vista of years, till i see
  A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
  And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
  
  In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
  Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
  To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
  And Hymns in the cozy parlor, the tinkling piano our guide.
  
  So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor
  With the great black piano appassionato.  The glamour
  Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
  Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

D. H. Lawrence

Blessings and magic, 

Donni