I cannot help but gaze at his face and
Those hazel eyes that entrance and tantlize.
No matter what,his hair stays perfectly
Around his face,not a strand astray
And perfect lips,that create one of the
Most perfect smiles I've ever seen.
Everything about him is perfect.
A gentle wind with burning passion;
A temperment within musical grace.
Perfect balance to create melodies
That haunt the soul and lift the heart,
Who is this perfect one you ask?
He's simply a musician who creates
Beauty within everything he touches.
As I said,Everything about him is perfect.
He sits on the bench layed in front
Of his piano,majesticly standing
Onto a stage with tranlucent light.
It beams into the crystaline finish
As every note is hit in perfect time
And his passion is seen once again
Onto the stage and back out into
The fans that sit and listen and watch
This pianoman play his perfection.
Yet he can turn around and make
Crowds scream into delight while
Keeping beat and keeping time
On a set so large that only his head
Can be seen from the top.
And as his friends play along
The song made is metal perfection.
As heads bang and fans sing,
Of scarlet jealousy and how it carves
what you believe into different lines,
He perfectly executes every move.
Though the night was rough and he
Retires back to a room for the evening,
He continues to write until the feeling
Leaves his fingers and he composes.
He retires for bed and awakes the next day
Feeling the same as yesterday's morning
With the same zest for life
The same love of music
The same perfect beauty within and without.
The same magic that resides his hands and mind
That create beautiful music and composition.
Even if tragedy strikes and breaks his heart.
This musician
This man I speak of
He is truly worthy of being called
Perfect.
