22 November 2012
Picking up the tired instrument, I grin.
The delicate frame stretches above my head, yawning.
Its frail limbs creak and crack, mirroring my stance mechanically.
I see myself.
Sighing softly, it coaxes my fingers to the keys, daring me to unlock the door.
I stare back, narrowed eyes twinkling.
It shifts under my owlish gaze, stifling laughter and crinkled corners.
Locked glances, reflections.
Shying away from my restless fingers.
Suddenly awkward, the icicles hang from the air uncertainly as we study the door intently.
I don't want to go.
The Musician • Opuss № I