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A piano stands in the center of the room.
a little girl watches it.
hearing it call to her
to come, to play
She heeds its call
She sits down
and the notes slip out of her fingers
into the piano
out for the world to hear
beautiful
The piano is happy
she is happy
they grow together
her music grows as well
more complex, more sophisticated
still beautiful
they grow older
hair greying
dust settling on the keys
as beautiful as ever
then one day
she's gone
her fingers lay still
the piano echos her music
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R.I.P Ms. Lorig. may the music be with you forever.
(but sucky poem, ey?)
 JoJoNot · Fri Dec 19, 2008 @ 11:27pm · 0 Comments |
