I love the piano,
Even though I don’t really know much of anything about it.
Peace would be sitting at an old friends’ piano bench,
Watching it all happen captivated by the flicker of the keys and the haunting beauty, abandoned by silence as it forgets to be relevant,
And knowing that I could never offer anything so beautiful;
If I could write music like the songs I improvise walking,
I would make the keys bleed forgiveness,
The keys would be delicate and gentle, my voice stapled onto a score.
It’s peace to be well in wondering at the twinkling knowing inside that great box,
Its peace to hear the harrowing notes, strung up little levers, marionette strings and pedals that moan,
Glue me to this spot,
It is well with my soul,
I could be trapped here happily and never leave.