The Blind Pianist Poem by Echezonachukwu Nduka

there’s a blind pianist
who plays all night in my street’s only bar.
his coat smells of tobacco and history.

black is the colour of the tunes
that announce his blindness.
he attracts pity and little coins too.
some nights are cruel to him,
while some share a bottle of beer or two.

this night, his hoarse voice brings
a lady’s lost love alive…
there’s love in every lost melody,
every lost dream, every lost smile,
every lost handshake, and lost winks too.

kindness hides in his voice—and in the movement of his fingers on the keys,
there’s a touch that can strum any lady’s guitars.
this night, blindness lost its grip over romance, over music,
over beauty, over attraction that hides behind the walls
of soulful songs.
this night, love, music, and booze are telepathic languages.