To Swell

I sit on my padded bench

and examine the ivory keys

I breathe in the smell of old wood

and I stretch my hands with ease

 

The pedal creaks below my foot

despite the gentleness of my press

I dwell on the sound of silence

and the feeling of sadness suppress

 

Temptation runs through my nerves

and my chest aches to fill that space

But I refuse to start until ready

I do not show passion without grace.

 

The arpeggios commence

and I can breathe once more

My heart beat swells beyond my ribs

exhilaration fills my core

 

Dissonant and stress

are relieved by triads and resonance

The most beautiful part of this movement

is the silence held and the hesitance.

 

Each meaningful press,

with the following hardly able to wait

the build starts in my shoulders

and breaks into a hearty gait

 

The tempo trots excitedly

and swells when relief succumbs

the sound flows emphatically

I lose control over my fingers and thumbs

 

Released by melody and cadence

my fingers led by intuition

If you asked me what relief is

this is my definition.

 

- Trinity Althoff

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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