There are people who live to perform, and those that must play to be alive. My daughter is the latter. She does not enjoy performing to an audience, but music is her epicenter, her fulfillment. It is something that will always be with her, no matter wher
Smiling broadly as her brother guides her fingers,
The joy of music begins to linger,
Afraid to show her budding gifts,
Puppy dog eyes as she pleas,
Daddy please come watch me,
I smile as I sit,
Enjoying the music emitting from her fingertips,
As the years fly by simple beginnings develop passion,
Slim delicate fingers dance on the keys,
Joy rising in her eyes as she senses,
The accomplishment felt from hearing the right sounds,
All the while demanding I see,
Her improving personal Symphony,
Strings are added to the mix,
A new challenge, demanding and complex,
I sit listening patiently to the squeaks,
Surprised out how quickly the Violin speaks,
With just the right stroke of the bow,
The plaintive squeals give way to musical flow.
Improving over time I listen,
Proud of this burgeoning musician,
Her instinctive gifts are treasured,
Yet not wanting to be individually measured.
Gradually the joy emerges from her lips,
Mixing an energetic voice with the fingertips,
Just happy to be playing she grins,
The attentive audience of one never condescends,
The joyous sounds cascade through the walls,
My personal symphony a celebration of life,
When its musical creator leaves me behind,
The sounds memory will resound in my mind,
Ever present in my thoughts, it will live,
My personal Symphony sounds so festive,
While sad that the performance must end,
Living it has given such satisfaction.
05/24/2004
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Written on 2025-07-03 at 07:02
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Personal Symphony
Tinkling keys on a toy piano,Smiling broadly as her brother guides her fingers,
The joy of music begins to linger,
Afraid to show her budding gifts,
Puppy dog eyes as she pleas,
Daddy please come watch me,
I smile as I sit,
Enjoying the music emitting from her fingertips,
As the years fly by simple beginnings develop passion,
Slim delicate fingers dance on the keys,
Joy rising in her eyes as she senses,
The accomplishment felt from hearing the right sounds,
All the while demanding I see,
Her improving personal Symphony,
Strings are added to the mix,
A new challenge, demanding and complex,
I sit listening patiently to the squeaks,
Surprised out how quickly the Violin speaks,
With just the right stroke of the bow,
The plaintive squeals give way to musical flow.
Improving over time I listen,
Proud of this burgeoning musician,
Her instinctive gifts are treasured,
Yet not wanting to be individually measured.
Gradually the joy emerges from her lips,
Mixing an energetic voice with the fingertips,
Just happy to be playing she grins,
The attentive audience of one never condescends,
The joyous sounds cascade through the walls,
My personal symphony a celebration of life,
When its musical creator leaves me behind,
The sounds memory will resound in my mind,
Ever present in my thoughts, it will live,
My personal Symphony sounds so festive,
While sad that the performance must end,
Living it has given such satisfaction.
05/24/2004
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Written on 2025-07-03 at 07:02
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
