The Pianist

My fingers caress her long keys
So white and pale and thin
With the small black ones in between
Sitting at her bench, I tell her
Just how in love I am
With her voice, its so perfect
My ears weep at the sound

As I press them down, press them in
She emits a soft yawn as she wakes
Shaking off her dust, she vibrates
At my touch
As we start again
My fingers get lost in their movements
And we begin our dance

Back and forth, up and then down
Tracing her beautiful, musical spine
My key strokes gaining confidence
I hammer them and she hammers on
Moaning with the pressure
She sings and I dance and fall
So much deeper, deeper in love

When we’ve tired and my hands ache
I will crawl into bed alone
And think about how I could never
Treat just any woman this way
But my piano, she understands
She knows what I like most
She knows just what I need


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