Crescendo

The knife had struck the piano’s side,
Gouging out a chunk of wood.

Now she knelt on the floor.
She shook slightly
As if she had come in
From the snow.

Her father slumped on the keys:
A mangle of notes.

A precious child,
Squirreling away her music sheets in the piano stool
Now lying on its side, upturned
Its contents spilt –
The faded yellow paper,
Dog-eared,
And the little black marks
Scurrying across the floor
Like ants.

Every night
She would play for her parents
In her special dress.
So skilled and tight and light and good.

Crescendo

HollyAmes

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
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