I remember you
sitting on that timeworn piano bench –
poised and peaceful as your fingers
danced across the ivory stage.
I sat cross legged on your lavender carpet
with my back pressed against the humming wood,
allowing your melody to course through my body
connecting me to you.
I see you
resting on that same piano bench, now
years later. You still have the same serenity
but your accomplished fingers have
grown stiff, no longer dancing at the will of your heart.
I sit beside you, my right leg against your left,
and position my novice fingers on your
beloved keys. A familiar melody flows from my
fingertips, and the sound of your heart
connects me to you.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.