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Then The Rat Bastard Sat Down at the Piano Bench
December 2, 2012
I can feel my own pupils dilate!
Because the music is swelling and so is something lost in her chest
She bites her lip, not to win him, but to pretend she is in control of herself tonight
There in the corner, the homeless screams laments to a noisy room that won’t listen
Only the artists win love
I am the scientist sitting quietly on the floor
Trying to remember what a smile would feel like on my face
Because one look at his pianist’s fingers and she’s gone
© Sophia E., Wilmington, DE
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