Wind flows through the window screen,
Toying with the edges of the papers lying on the bench,
They softly whisper,
Like a lover’s endearments.
The pages crinkle as they are carried,
Then gently laid to rest on the stand.
The air stills, and noise is erased.
Silence hangs in the air until,
Hands caress the black and white slivers of ivory.
One note resounds,
And then another,
Shattering the void.
Fingers flutter gently against the keys, barely kissing their surface,
Melodies whirl in a cyclone,
Pouring forth like a cascading waterfall from the lifted lid of the piano.
Sound swells,
Lingers,
Then fades into nothingness.
Bowing to an invisible audience,
The pianist gathers the sheet music from the stand,
The pages crinkle as they are carried,
Like a lover’s endearments,
They softly whisper,
As they are shut away to be forgotten,
Until they are remembered once more.