Fingers like chimes – stiff, cold, trembling,
right thumb rests on B-flat.
Its sound dangles above the audience,
begs for the G-natural a sixth up.
His left hand falls into a twelve-eight bounce;
a fragile momentum born,
each note suggesting the next.
Trills irrigate some neglected field of mind
until he’s lost in watercolor nostalgia,
slow diminishing revolutions
- a diminuendo trickling to the final E-flat.
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