My Piano

I like to watch

my tiny hands play piano.

My Margaret March vanity:

proud of their delicate,

white littleness

 

The double lines of notes

wrench my mind in two

And my thin fingers stumble over notes

until the black and white keys

become smooth and familiar.

 

A delicious melody

coaxed from the instrument

mingles with a bass-cleffed background

Revealing a story, painting

An audible canvased landscape or portrait:

oils, acrylics, watercolors

slurs, crescendos, rests

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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