The harpsichord

His snowy wings knelt, kiss the grassy ground,
fluttered so softly by his arms ballet,
flying fingers tipped out his light white gown,
pluck vertical strings that heavenly sway.

The sun pierced within clouds to peek at it.
Enlightened, laid it on hardwood casket
for a soulful resonance opened lid,
in a frame the thin players the keys beat.

Double echoed the harps glittering voice
spray of a waterfall, drop of Spring dew,
on wild flowers of a forgotten place.

Sits you shaded by violas' willow
with tea iced, berries, an epic romance
and a young child's love dream for a pillow.