The Pianist

While the pianist plays with her

Soul in her hands

Taking us all to a distant shore,

Of hearts and oceans sands

Some listen with content

Some find her 
Melody a faithful friend

While life closes in,

Peace and love find a way,
Through her fingertips,

To our souls

And I wonder how

Deeply she knows?

Red

it grabs our attention
it seduces our intentions
it pumps through our arteries
it gives us life in a
world of uncertainties

red is her favorite color,
for long ago, she was a performer,
she wore red, felt red and sang red

I held her hand, cold as ice
within minutes,
red came nimbly beneath my skin,
warming her soul
for she held on tightly and
wouldn't let go

she listened intently as the preacher spoke
as her eyes held onto his every move
the same ol' message of God's certain wrath
came in the form of shame and the color red

I felt her grip become stronger
then I found myself begin to wonder
how red had become her favorite color