Uncomposed melodies do fill the air,
As I stride forth, with Chopin in my heart,
Forgotten Liszt, my pockets stark and bare,
Yet Bach’s refrain shall guide me to restart.
The notes of Chopin’s nocturnes softly play,
While Liszt’s grand echoes linger in the mind,
To Bach’s pure harmony, I turn and sway,
In music’s thrall, a unity we find.
A journey through the streets, with tones so sweet,
From Chopin’s depth to Liszt’s virtuosic flair,
To Bach’s divine, transcendent, rhythmic beat,
This symphony of masters, rich and rare.
Thus, in this sonnet, music intertwines,
A tapestry of legends, pure and fine.