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Through The Walls
I hear him,
through the walls,
in the night,
playing the piano.
I picture him by candle light,
or by soft fire glows
as the music flows
to his tired fingers calls.
Casting shadows on bare walls
that dance and fly,
to the gentle sound as he plays alone.
Making music in his home.
Late and soft,
his soul calls.
Sounding though our bedroom walls.
Every night a different tune,
raching out, to my empty room.
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