In halls where echoes softly play,
The strings of time begin to sway,
A melody both old and grand,
Conducted by a master’s hand.

Violins weave stories told,
Of love and loss, of young and old,
Each note a whisper from the past,
A symphony that’s meant to last.

The piano’s keys, like falling rain,
Bring forth emotions, joy and pain,
Crescendoes rise, then gently fall,
In this, the music’s timeless call.

As flutes and cellos intertwine,
They carry hearts through space and time,
In classical embrace, we find,
The eternal rhythm of the mind.