Keys
Ivory fingers
pale poised
passing promptly
across the keys
of the loneliest sounding instrument.
Cold little bones
pressing
precisely picked notes.
Eyes closed
as the music carries,
for I learned this song
when I was just a little girl,
a song of loneliness
of heart ache
I learned this tune
because I lost the will
to say
   I am unhappy
   I have been used
   I long for your love
   Tell me I'm not all that my mind thinks I am
   How long shall I play this song?
Ivory fingers
pressing poorly
pastored keys
the song ages with me
it becomes slower and slower
and lighter and lighter
as the will to press the keys
as the will to express anything at all
slowly fades away
with my surrounding's discouragements,
     *how much longer will I play this song?