Zoe Guillory


A single note sounded in the dusty air
of a clammy room.
An abandoned home.
Where only the auras of spirits
still lurked in the ancient walls
and the roof was all but torn away.
No windows were left.
Streams of sunlight stained the floors.
Layer upon layer of dust
protected the piano's keys
from my sickly human fingertips.

That single note came out muffled.
As if the dust and abandonment took away
all the hope of my lonely grand piano.
Black and white keys stained
from generations of fingers drawing music
from the cold inner-mechanics of the instrument.

I took my rightful place
on the bench of my piano
as my hands danced across the keys
in a Waltz of Happiness.
Of Sorrow.
My hands waving in the air
to jump across the surface
of the stained ivory keys.
My feet played with the pedals,
arguing as friends will.

As my dance ended,
the dust took its place on the strings.
The keys where my fingers had just been
but a moment before.
All covered with the pale gray
fluff of dead dandelions in the breeze.
Cold gray memories shifted back
into their own positions in the Puzzle of Life.
But they fit back unevenly.
And the story was altered.
Like a hammer on glass the puzzle was shattered
by the music of the piano.
The music from inside me.

All was still.
But as the sun fell from the sky,
the walks crumbled around me. On top of me.
Suffocating the dust and my piano.
And me.
And I yelled for help but the walls were too heavy
and the breathe was knocked out of me.
But I still breathed.
And I lay in wait there for my Savior
to lift the house from on top of me.

Submitted: Sunday, March 31, 2013
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