Pirouettes on the Ivories

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I wrote this poem as a remembrance of my mother. Even when macular degeneration and diabetes took her eyesight, she continued playing her beloved piano. I often sat adjacent to her, watching her arthritic fingers dance pirouettes across the 88 ‘blacks and whites,’ lost in creativity and the music. Her pain temporarily dissolved, and she was at peace in her musical heaven, soulfully content. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She walks into the empty room and sits down on the stool; her heart engulfed with grief and gloom from life that has been both kind and cruel. She knows that she must persevere though things seem dark and grey; then wipes away a single tear as she begins to play. Familiar music soon takes flight, her sorrows start to lift; and so she plays into the night and feels the music’s gift. At last, she plays a soft reprise and feels her gloom depart; true solace found in ivory keys that mend her broken heart!