I go to the piano
And find a red flower on the score sheet.
I go to the piano
And there's tea with light steam
And a cake with a spoon thrust in.
I remove it
Like Arthur taking out his sword from the rock.
I remove it
And the cake's no more there.
I put the spoon back.
There's wind and shaking flowers,
There’s the sun and rustling wheat.
I'm alive,
And I attack the keys
Wildly.
The score sheet stares and I stare back
Wildly.
And the fingers take off
Like kites without strings,
At the mercy of this wind of notes that hits me.
I finish the piece
And feel alive.
I finish the piece
And feel like a warrior walking uphill
With not just muscles to show,
But the blood,
The angry eyes,
And the hair that sticks to the forehead.
I’m alive...
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