In the halls where shadows dance and play,
The echoes of the past still softly sway.
Violins weep in a mournful embrace,
As the piano whispers tales of grace.

Through ancient wood and strings so fine,
Melodies weave through the sands of time.
Conductors lead with hands so sure,
Crafting harmonies that forever endure.

Each note a brushstroke on history’s page,
Painting emotions that never age.
Cellos hum with a deep, resonant tone,
While flutes sing sweetly, never alone.

In the silence between each sound,
A universe of feeling is found.
Classical music, eternal and grand,
Holds the heart in its gentle hand.