Articles, Death, fiction and poetry, fiction&writing, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings

The Pianist

Immaculately dressed in black and white,
hair that shone even in tint lights,
he played the piano on lonely nights,
remembering her daughter and the little cute fights,

It’s been 15 years,longing now stole his patience
nerves bled when he was found in basement,
the piano was sold and so was the house too,
Still people hear those symphonies so true.

© Shashank Bhardwaj.


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