the piano played on

the other night sleep could not find me, or i could not find it. my body did search for sleep, but it was hiding in a far away corner, deciding to avoid eye contact. sleep finally did come to me, but only after the piano.
Feb. 03, 2009:

the light is back on now, but only a moment ago, after i turned the little lamp off for only the second time, i heard music. laying in the dark guest bedroom, i could hear something. maybe it was a train or maybe a piano.
either could be possible. i rolled over the sound in my head like one would a piece of chewing gum in their mouth. the next door neighbor is a concert pianist, but the hour is much to late for a lady like herself to be awake, let alone tracing her fingers along a grand piano. could it be a train? it is true, we can hear the train whistle blow from inside the house occasionally - but it usually would not blow so faintly.
laying in the bed next to my dreaming dog, i made the decision to hear the piano. once the decision was made, there was no turning back, the piano was playing beautifully in my head as the faint musical sound i had heard early faded from the room. my piano played.
i wish i could write poetry like my dad did. compose lyrics to my own songs. i could sing them loud and would be proud to know they were my own.
i could even shout them or change tempo, or even style as my imaginary viewers gazed on.
it would be beautiful. and it would be something i could hold onto for some time.
and the piano would play.
now the light will go off for the third time and, in the dark, sleep will find my eyes just as music finds my ears.
and the piano played on.