| The Song Sweeter than sweet, was the bitter that followed a mournful song. Notes would drift for many a year, as fantasy trailed along ... Grander than grand was your entrance, small and upright was my heart. So soft, was the music playing; that I never heard it start. Blacker than black; whiter than white all sounded for good measure; The ebony and ivory, a legacy, a treaure! Metrical beats between the bars, the music plays on and on. The staff of life; where would we be, had we never heard the song? ... Joy A. Burki-Watson |
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