As organs go, legs could be seen
To carry a tune. From where I sit
A veritable arpeggio of pipes fugue
Into the room. Sheets of parquet
Flooring stream in straight lines
A down to earth scoring, each
Bar a measured note of shine.
They say the real reading of a book
Happens when you lift your
Eyes and look out, seeing inward.
Who is to say where music is
Heard. What master craftsman
Shaped wood and moulded metal
So that each note sang as clear
As the papered, printed, word.
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