Wandering in my dream seraphs dance ghost children play. One of them a girl gathered the flowers that had been scattered smoothed their petals put them on her piano and began to play. The song was delicate her silvery voice echoing in my ears. Entranced, I watched her till the flowers wilted and turned to dust. The girl sang of life and death of happiness and pain. The music floated through the air dancing sharing it's life with me. When she stopped playing I got up to leave. She said 'that was my life' I nodded tears starting stinging my eyes. I woke up and I could still hear her song.
Reason for writing:
This poem is really, truthfully about Tori Amos. Some things effect you enough to make you write about them and her music is one of them.
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Cori Trimmer.