My Piano
I like to watch
my tiny hands play piano.
My Margaret March vanity:
proud of their delicate,
white littleness
The double lines of notes
wrench my mind in two
And my thin fingers stumble over notes
until the black and white keys
become smooth and familiar.
A delicious melody
coaxed from the instrument
mingles with a bass-cleffed background
Revealing a story, painting
An audible canvased landscape or portrait:
oils, acrylics, watercolors
slurs, crescendos, rests
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: