(no subject)
:le sigh:
my mommys playing the piano.
i always get all choked up when she plays the piano.
I remember the little girl that i used to know.
Always smiling,nothing bad ever happened.
Even falling off her bike provided afternoon giggles.
I remember how she used to look at herself in the mirror.
Anythings possible, she always said.
Her lipstick never flawed,even for a 7 year old.
Her best friend Cortney, well she just could never get it.
Shed waltz into the room as her moms fingertips glided on and off the keys.
"night night mommy" shed say, and shed bundle up with her buppa and white-ba under the piano seat, and thats where she spent her afternoons.
The hum of the piano body her airplane to her dreamland.
Even after her mom left the piano to go start dinner, the melodies continued to resonate through her mind.
Her dreamland.
Her nowhereplace.
Where did that little girl go?
Adolescence has snatched her up like a precious diamond.
Holding her hostage in its torturous hallways.
There is no dreamland now.
Not even a nowhereplace.
Her bah is grey and tattered, swimming somewhere beneath her bed, Couty has moved to a faraway place to live her own life, and the piano now sits there...collecting dust.
Except for those quiet weekends.
When her mommy gets five minutes of peace from the burden of responsibility.
And her fingers once again..
Glide effortlessly on and off the shiny white keys,
and the now grown up girl, sits in the back room, absorbed by technology, wishes she could still retreat to the shelter of the piano bench, wishes the hum of the songs was stil enough to ease her racing mind.
Wishing
She could get one more glimpse
of her Dreamland.
Her nowhereplace.
my mommys playing the piano.
i always get all choked up when she plays the piano.
I remember the little girl that i used to know.
Always smiling,nothing bad ever happened.
Even falling off her bike provided afternoon giggles.
I remember how she used to look at herself in the mirror.
Anythings possible, she always said.
Her lipstick never flawed,even for a 7 year old.
Her best friend Cortney, well she just could never get it.
Shed waltz into the room as her moms fingertips glided on and off the keys.
"night night mommy" shed say, and shed bundle up with her buppa and white-ba under the piano seat, and thats where she spent her afternoons.
The hum of the piano body her airplane to her dreamland.
Even after her mom left the piano to go start dinner, the melodies continued to resonate through her mind.
Her dreamland.
Her nowhereplace.
Where did that little girl go?
Adolescence has snatched her up like a precious diamond.
Holding her hostage in its torturous hallways.
There is no dreamland now.
Not even a nowhereplace.
Her bah is grey and tattered, swimming somewhere beneath her bed, Couty has moved to a faraway place to live her own life, and the piano now sits there...collecting dust.
Except for those quiet weekends.
When her mommy gets five minutes of peace from the burden of responsibility.
And her fingers once again..
Glide effortlessly on and off the shiny white keys,
and the now grown up girl, sits in the back room, absorbed by technology, wishes she could still retreat to the shelter of the piano bench, wishes the hum of the songs was stil enough to ease her racing mind.
Wishing
She could get one more glimpse
of her Dreamland.
Her nowhereplace.