A good poem about a girl playing the piano

The melodious sound of the piano slowly benefited from her hands. Seems to be more mysterious and disappointed, revealing the impenetrable ethereal brow. Like ink, moss faintly across the shallow lips. Suddenly, the piano came to a screeching halt. Everything starts again. Fish sink and geese fall, and the moon closes and flowers are ashamed. The delicate lotus is jealous, who can laugh. Bloom can be broken, so don't treat the old America. When you get married, envy it.