Though aged,
Her fingers dance
Nimbly across the keys.
Music fills the room,
As swirling eddies of sound
Touch my soul.
It’s magic she weaves,
Through years of dedication,
The spell of her talent,
Touches my life
And makes me long for more…
More music…
More magic…
Effortless she plays,
But with passion.
As another birthday,
Come and gone,
Another day,
Another setting sun,
But day by day,
Her music lives on…
And on.
…for Wilma Foote
The End
Copyright August 2001 by Christopher J. Thomasson
