The piano’s memories
I’ve been played many a time before. But this time my owner is so soft so caring. He never seems to let go of the keys. So sad so sorrowful. His mind seems to black out and focus on playing. All his troubles seem to fly away. I don’t know his name. I wish to find out soon.
Every time my owner plays I feel a slight tickle. I’ve no sight but I have sense. There seems to be four hands. My owner has a sensation of happiness and then everything goes quiet. Just me and my owner.
Once for a long time my owner went away to the war. I had no clue what happened out there. Until one day I got a small idea. My owner came back as sad as a clown. He came sat on the stool and played one of the saddest war songs I’ve ever heard. I assume someone or something died. I hope my owner pulls himself together. I like him happy I’d like him happy now.
A very very long time ago I remember my owner as happy as can be. He was only young. He made a clippedy clop noise and ran around me giggling as he goes. He said thank you for my horse daddy. I don’t need a daddy I have my owner. Just me and him.
I have another sense now. Not a paranormal sense, the same being as my owner. It’s the end of the song now and it’s just been finished by a boy. A happy boy as well as that my owner is happy. The last press of the keys they lift their hands.
The boy and my owner turn heads. Gazing into each other’s eyes. They smile.
By Isaac ph.