You stare.
The music surrounds the pages.
Notes, rests, lines, and an unseen melody.
And you can't hear it.
Because it isn't being played.
Putting your fingers on the ivories, the melody uncovers itself.
Hiding there.
On the bench, you subconsciously sway to the sound.
Melodic. Melancholic.
The music swelling around you.
So sweet, yet so sad.
Like feathers and thorns.
Roses and funerals.
You start to cry,
And watch the wet tears drip onto the keys, still steadily playing.
Wondering what made you like this, a violin picks up.
You crane your neck, making sure your fingers are still roots connected to the keys, and you notice the person.
They play in time with you.
The music more beautiful than before.
The person comes up to stand next to you and your baby, the grand.
No eye contact is established, and nor is it needed.

All the world's love and hate, kindness and cruelty, serious and playful-sides all come together in this piece.
Smooth, Melodic, Sad, Happy, Alone, Surrounded...

LOVED.