The blind piano tuner would make a house visit.
While he worked on the wires, keys and pedals my hand would rest on the wood and feel the vibrations of his testing tones.
Then the piano was ready.
She, wrapped in a turquoise tent, seated herself on the bench.
The heavy, rapturous, music began.
My hand tightened upon the curve of the wood.
I held on as the room spun.
My face pinned to hers.
Our emotions intertwined.
Losing my grip I fell away and spun out.
I-spun-out.
3 comments:
Thank you for helping me remember the blind piano tuner! Your photo is GORGEOUS!
do you like this one better?
The blind piano tuner made a house visit.
And while he worked on the wires, keys and pedals, my hand rested on the wood. The vibrations of his testing tones filled me.
When the piano was ready, my mother, wrapped in turquoise clothes, seated herself on the bench and placed her fingers on the keys. Then began the music, heavy and rapturous.
My hand tightened upon the curve of the wood, and I held on as the room began to spin.
My face was pinned to hers; Our souls were communing.
Losing my grip, I fell away and spun out.
I-spun-out.
yes the piano man. i was very intrigued by his way of listening and always hovered when he tuned.
it was overwhelming when mom played and took us on a wild and emotional whirl through her music...great writing, berta.
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