A blue dress
Stained with tears
Dancing slowly
In the moon light
Bare foot and free
Breathing deeply
As the pain sinks in
A memory falls
In a fleeting moment
And fades to blue

They say there’s beauty
In pain
But what is beautiful
About sitting on the bathroom floor,
Tears dripping
Into a puddle of blood,
And crying
Until your breath stops?

Resting on my mother's lap
I trace
The batik flowers
Swirling in a psychedelic haze.
Of rich greens and mellow reds.
Her voice humming the afternoon away,
The only place i feel safe.

My mother is a piano
A little out of tune
Dusty keys
That play with ease
Ivory as the moon

Sometimes I’ll touch the wood
And admire its antiquity
Think of all the things that it
Ever dreamed to be

Sometimes when my fingers
Fly through a song
I wonder how this piano
Ever got so strong.

My mother is a piano,
She makes music out of air,
She answers each finger
With an embrace, with care

Her legs planted firmly
in the ground
How much I love to hear
her deep, rich sound.