The Dream.

Piano, my silent

mother,

I can touch you,

you are cool

and smooth

and willing

to stay with me

stay with me

talk to me.

Uncomplaining

you accept

the cover to your keys

and still

you

make room

for all that I

place

there.

We close our eyes

together

and together find that stillness

like a pond

a pond

when the wind is quiet

and the surface

glazes

gazing unblinking

at the blue sky.

I play songs

that have only the pattern

of my self in them

and you hum along

supporting me.

You are the

companion

to myself.

The mirror

with my mother's eyes.


~(Taken from) Out of the Dust,
by Karen Hesse