Fingers are dancing across a keyboard,
they create a sound so lovely and passionate.
Yet souls pass by without acknowledgment.
The flames burn bright, hot and orange
ignorant of the good they can do and the damage they cause.
They simply wish to warm
the cold souls that come near.
And then it occurred to me,
things are more than what they seem.
An amber squirrel sits in a tree
like a guardian angel.
The feeling of my fingers intertwined with yours,
the one I love.
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