Melodic Dawn

Document
Cover Image

            The elegance of her fingers as they softly pressed down on the keys, emanating tones as beautiful as her features.


            It was morning, and he was delighted to be awoken by the sounds of her playing. He rose from his pillow, resting on his arm, and stared at her slender, graceful body as it sat behind the five year old Casio keyboard she was too embarrassed to be watched playing at.


            The early morning sky drew a pale blue light into the room – dawn was his favorite time of day because of this light. He felt it was during dawn, with the pale light growing lighter from the rising sun, that everything was given a crisper view. A view that revealed everything’s true colors – colors that are skewed by every other part of the day’s light.


            He was lucky enough to see her body, illuminated by pale blue light, sway with the music - as her hands led her mind through a musical journey - for a minute or so before she noticed him starting at her.


            "Oh, you're up," she said with fearful excitement; quickly rising from the bench she had been resting on - sitting is too harsh a word to describe how furniture holds her – trying to hide to the fact that she had just been playing a beautiful piece.


            "That sounded beautiful," he said as the wind blew her body towards him - her mind still at the piano where she hasn't stopped playing. "What was that one called?"


            "It was something I wrote," she replied, softly lowering herself onto the bed beside him.


            "Why did you stop? It was such a nice way to wake up. I wish you would have kept playing."


            "I'll let you hear it once I've finished writing it."


            It was a reply he had heard for many years. He could never hear her for more than several minutes before she would notice him and stop playing. And on few beautiful occasions, her voice would join the beautiful melody her hands were dancing to. He had always longed, since he had first heard her, to spend his mornings listening to her play.


            It was something he often imagined. It was something he liked to think would one day happen. It was something he knew would never happen.

Created: Aug 09, 2012

Tags:

BroLinscott Document Media