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The Artist

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I sat at the bench.
My fingers rest lightly on the cool, white keys.
A long, single note holds.
I can see the possibilities.
My hands speed up.
The silence is gone.
They move with grace over the keys.
All my clumsiness is gone.
Louder, stegato.

More notes, the beautiful sounds trickling delicately into the air.

It is my canvas.

I am the artist.



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This article has 3 comments. Post your own!

oneDIRECTIONgal' said...
Mar. 27, 2012 at 6:58 am:
notbad but its a little short not bad but good job!
 
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Aphrodite84 said...
Mar. 25, 2012 at 4:25 pm:
Omg i love ur poem. i love playing on the piano to but that aint my canvas my canvas is the dance floor. Lol keep writing
 
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Aphrodite84 said...
Mar. 25, 2012 at 4:25 pm:
Omg i love ur poem. i love playing on the piano to but that aint my canvas my canvas is the dance floor. Lol keep writing
 
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