Clique

The ever steady click
Of silver keys
As I press them down in difficult rhythm.
Warm air blows through a plastic mouth piece
But no sound comes out
Not yet, not yet, two more measures.
Two more rests.
When the time comes
A sounds like no other
Rich and deep, beauty and peace.
My part, not important,,but my sound is magnificent.
I live for this noise
This rich roar and rumble
A shudder in your chest as it shakes the floor.
My mind is empty
For the first time today.
An empty shell, void of thoughts,
Only happens when I play.
My fingers, how they dance and tango on the silver plates,
The warm deep tones melt those around me.
In time I play, in tune I roar.
Nobody listens to me by myself anymore.
But with my bass
All turn and show their face.
They beg for more, they cry for more.
I live to be heard.
I live to play.

This poem is about: 
Me

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