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I play the Chopin piece over and over on the piano. Mother behind me in her chair listening critically the tips of her fingers tapping the beat of time on the arm. I think of Benny being there his chin on my shoulder breathing him whispering words in my ear. You played that bar or so too fast Mother says go back. I stop and go back and begin again. Trying to focus my fingers nimble my mind elsewhere not on Chopin's piece even as I play. I muse on Benny and I in my bed at night when he stayed and I crept to the room he was in close to him kissing and holding but no *** just in case. That's not how Chopin meant it to be played Mother says pushing thoughts of Benny from my head.
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May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
YOCHANA'S PRACTICE 1962.
I play the Chopin piece over and over on the piano. Mother behind me in her chair listening critically the tips of her fingers tapping the beat of time on the arm. I think of Benny being there his chin on my shoulder breathing him whispering words in my ear. You played that bar or so too fast Mother says go back. I stop and go back and begin again. Trying to focus my fingers nimble my mind elsewhere not on Chopin's piece even as I play. I muse on Benny and I in my bed at night when he stayed and I crept to the room he was in close to him kissing and holding but no *** just in case. That's not how Chopin meant it to be played Mother says pushing thoughts of Benny from my head.
A GIRL AND MOTHER IN 1962
TerryCollett
Written by
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
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