Slender fingers perched set, acquiesce,
each string a tone of melody, in wait,
and when supple touch and tune ensues,
like bells of a tower pervade the room.
Melodious rivulets swirl in rhythmic flow,
room amassed and burgeoning,
swollen with the passion of euphony,
embroidered air with silken threads.
The swell of sound like angels wings,
caressed by a Summer breeze,
like siren songs of ancient rites,
imploring hearts to breath each hallowed note.
And as she plays this harp transforms,
its resonance a beauteous accession,
the room filled with a resounding chorus,
notes melding into a symphony.
From crystal brooks to zephyr sighs,
from thunder booms and lovers eyes,
each note, each chord from an impassioned heart,
music to win the darkest intent.
And when at end, the sound endures,
reverberant bells of vast array,
echoing, pervading air with grace and subtle nuance,
the harp, in the loving hands of a mistress.
Tony DeLorger © 2017