A chill went up my spine with the spiritual uplifting notes.
My muffled Mephistos stilled.
My eyes teared with more inspiring notes.
A cello of passion was whispering.
Riveting. Intense. A timeless aria.
Across the lonely road.
In the shade.
Under the large, leafy oak.
The brazilwood bow brushed slowly across the strings.
Snow-white feather fingers glided slowly along the neck.
Eyes caressed her cheeks.
From her heart. Her soul.
Dreaming. Calm. Peaceful.
Her lithe body swaying with the music.
With tears flowing, Nikon rose to my eye.
Fog through the rivulets.
Push. click. Push click. Push click.
The greatest hymn ever written.
Eyes glided open.
I whispered “thank you”, in English.
She whispered “thank you” in Polish.
May you find an expression of love, calm and spiritual dimension listening to the music from my morning.