when he plays piano, i fall in love with the boy...but. he's usually not.
aaron 2
When his fingers hit the piano
He old keys exhale
With his heart, ruling his hands
Like wings over the ancient machine they said
His face becomes stern
His breath at a slow pace
I dare say he looks in fear--in shock
As his fingertips melodiously race
I curl upon the floor near the bench
My eyes view him playing
My heart pounds along with his
He never speaks, still I know what he's saying
Every time I see him play
My stomach drops, my mind so turns
I remember everything about his life
And I slightly rekindle the flame that burns
My mind--a flurry--retraces the times
My eyes slowly well while my chest sighs
I shed a tear for old time's sake
When he lifts his fingers, reality reawakes
When he ends his personal symphony
My amorous feelings likewise cease
As the music slowly fills the air
My fickle heart is on lease
He temporarily owns my sould
The notes and chords send me in a trance
He wipes the tears that stain my cheeks
My breath uncontrollable, my lungs awkwardly dance
Hyperventilation, unforseen emotion
The only place I show my fickle devotion
Is along his side
Near the floor
While the notes and chords and melodies trail out the door.
