Echoes of Serenade

In the whispers of the strings, a tale unfolds, Three sisters of melody, their hearts made of gold. With every strum, a memory takes flight, In the dance of fingers, a story alights. Their gowns, a flowing mist, a gentle hue, As they weave a tapestry, both old and new. The guitars, a voice, a language all their own, Speaking of love, of dreams, of hearts made to atone. In the blurred lines, a mystery resides, A world where time stands still, and music abides. The brushstrokes, soft, a whisper of the soul, Revealing the beauty, making the heart and spirit whole. In this watercolor dream, we find our peaceful nest, A place where art and music forever rest.