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Chopin
May 28, 2013
The notes may float out of the piano’s barrel like bubbles,
Burbling faster than you can stop;
They make a dimpled toddler gasp in delight and reach to--
But they are swept away in a new wave of running sound.
The notes may slide out of the piano’s broad chest like warm snakes.
Slowly, the gentlest of snakes.
They wrap around the drowsy child and engulf her in warmth:
More welcome than a lap dog,
More smooth than the blanket her father draws over her.
The pain in the hands smells purple;
Frustration tastes like black,
But practice long enough,
And the colour drains out of the living room,
Leaves it transparent,
So the glorious rainbow of music
Can dazzle,
And touch.
© Amy C., Portland , ME
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