Music From the Other Room

Every day,

My thoughts turn towards doom,

Until I hear the music,

From the other room.

The light crescendos fill the house,

Then become softer,

So that you could hear a mouse.

The music plays on its own accord.

It abides by no ones rules,

And never leaves me bored.

The music from the other room,

Was always there for me,

And one day I decided to take a peek,

Curious of what I might see.

A small girl twirled fingers on the piano’s keys,

As I stepped into the dusted room.

She acted as if no one was there,

As if she could not see.

The solid floor and walls,

Vibrated the magnificent sound,

And I felt an overwhelming urge,

To show people what I had found.

So the very next day,

People lined up to see,

A little girl playing a soothing melody.

But to my dismay,

I found the girl was gone.

The piano was dusted.

There was no sound.

Depressed as could be,

I sulked up to my room,

To embrace my foul mood.

A year or so later,

I heard a familiar sound,

Coming from beneath my bedroom ground.

I crept down the steps,

Quiet as could be,

To find a little girl playing a soothing melody.