Friday, April 16, 2010

As I play my piano...

When everyone has left, that's when I play.
I play the loneliness I don't want to speak of...
No one is there to judge or praise the way I play my piano.
If there's a song I love I can play it over & over.
No one gets annoyed.
No one tells me to stop.
Hours pass, I play on.
Exhaustion consumes me...
My eyes burn, my back aches
But I stay alive through the familiar notes.
My hands almost move mechanically over the keys,
But it comforts me.

Picture: Catherine Ireton from God Help the Girl

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Silhouettes of a secret. A story told over a cuppa. Or perhaps just sitting on that stone bench, basking in the moonlight... and not saying anything at all.

("I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks." -Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)