Golden


I walked across the stage, my

footsteps echoing.

I perched on the edge

of the comfortable piano bench.

My hands are frozen in the air above the keys of the golden piano

for a moment. Then, I

play, my fingers gracefully pushing each key as if it was made of pure crystal.

At first

the music is awkward but quickly, the

stage fades away as my feelings pour

into the music. And I remember

that it doesn't matter if the

piano is rotting wood or real

gold, it's

this moment that is

golden.

Finally, the piece ends, and I stand

silently and take a brief bow before

striding off stage.

Behind me, the applause

follows, resounding like

golden notes in my mind.