She has lost someone today
Someone very close
She is not sure of what do to
Chords of sadness ringing in her mind

So she takes her own trip to the Garden of Eden
The air heavy and cloudy there today, full of humidity
Nevertheless, she takes a seat among the misty ancients
Where ancient ivories rest, sheltered in a rain forest paradise

The invisible inhabitants of the room, and come to watch her, wait
She is the composer; she composes herself accordingly
The black and white tiles now places in front of her
Only speaking when they are told

It has been silent there for awhile now, hollow without its only sound
But she has come to perform her loss today
And fingertips, light and delicate, yet sharp as talons
Click the keys into formation

And she begins to play.

Colors from her surroundings seep into swelling raindrops
And misty shadows come to life as she plays
From wall to floor to ceiling they flit
Dislodging colored tunes trapped in liquid notes along the way

She plays a symphony of colored raindrops
And they rain down as scales, chords, stories
Splashing the room, her, and wherever she touches
Colorful, deceptively playful, stains upon the board

Even condensation forms on the walls like quarter notes
Crying with her, tears sliding down in their own composed piece
Intermingling, shuffling the colored water droplets of her emotions
As the pale shadows evaporate into mists of heavy rain

And the mournful strings, set into motion
Enticed by her will
Lend their own voices to her from within their wooden coffin
Echoing her sorrow

Silver salt droplets join in falling down her cheeks
Eroding off white and black paint to brown
Seeping in-between the strings and wooden case
A splash striking a hum

The 89th key....

Even after she stops playing, alone in the greenhouse
The hum goes on for awhile, even if no one can hear it
The tune of the 89th key
In her mother’s old grand piano.