Joy Poem by Mark Heathcote
Joy
When you sing soprano
And my hands are empty
And my heart is hollow
Your love is a royal flush
When I'm sick of playing
Wild-cards, I look at you
And I blush, portraying
A man once again in love
When you play the piano
The world goes into silent
-Mode a hushed concerto
That fills my soul with joy.
Friday, June 9, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/3/2024 7:30:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
