I would stand by her
Between the cooker and the sink
And watch her hands
Her work- worn fingers dancing
Over the yellowing keys
Producing out of thin air
Melodies known and unknown
Pouring from the tensioned wires
Into my being
Not wanting them to end
Like discovering a new dimension.
My anxieties fall away as melody seeps in
Flat-lined against the float of notes
Sad or healing
Nostalgic, reflective, optimistic
Or just sublime
As I stood beside her
And watched her hands slipping
Missing odd notes
Till the end of the tune.
