The Forgotten Garden

If you don’t play with your piano it will run away.

I know, because I met one, nestled in between beech trees and so many kinds of ancient greens and wild flowers

Whispering, ever so softly on the wind, for someone to come and play.

I would sneak out every night from the red barn house with my copper lantern glowing softly, lighting my way.

We would sing and dance and play for hours in the woods surrounded by the laughter of faeries and fiddlehead ferns.

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