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Soft keys give way to your feather light fingers
Paper-thin cuts rock and ivory like half-molten butter
but you
(you and the barely-there tap of your nails, the eerie clicks that do not echo but nonetheless linger)
             convince it to sound like
a voluntary death, a willing surrender,
instead of mere sweet murder

Perhaps you have put this same spell over me
You’d play; I’d listen,
Sitting enchanted and near enough to see how the light breaks on your hair the same way your fingers build and break,
Create and abandon
Cherish and spurn like overstrained lovers

Your favourite was the fresh twitter of staccato notes
Mine, the release of the pedal, the steady thump of a beating heart
Leuven, 2012. I joined a friend for her audition at a conservatory in Belgium last summer, this is my result of that day ^^
palesile Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2013  Student General Artist
By the title I'm sorry to admit that I thought this poem was going to be a catastrophe. I'm happily surprised though. It was a lovely. I can see the seen you've written out for me but I can also see myself and what it must be when I play and I think that's a great thing you've enabled for your readers that might be fellow musicians. Good work!
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Submitted on
February 22, 2013
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