A memory of a song,

A sweet melody,

Floats in the air,

Dancing, past my fingertips,

Softly, to keys of the past.

I lay my hands,

Gently, along the black and white.

It whispers a story,

Begging to be heard.

My hands dance around

Slowly on the keys,

Uncertain timid notes

That grew quickly secure

As memories rises up,

Bringing the melody alive.