The Music Center
A poem and two flash-fiction stories: echoes from a place that no longer exists.
The Music Center
Tony and Giselle pirouette and jete Showing little girls how to dance The Ballet The old lady teacher thumps the floor with her cane A skin of ACE bandages cushions her pain. The ancient guitarist plays his favorite tune Sings lyrics so banal every line rhymes with June The scales on pianos echo down the dark hall The clatter of tap shoes is loudest of all The Grand Dame who owns it all lives over the store I spied crystal chandeliers when I peeked through her door What fame did these people attain long ago Did Tony and Giselle ever star in a show Today a demolition claw hovers above The old Music Center that I used to love.
Silent No More
After years playing an electronic keyboard, she pressed her fingers upon the dusty and worn ivory keys of the old piano. She jumped back in shock, hearing the loud resonance ringing out from the long-neglected instrument. It sounded as if the piano sang out, "At last, my voice is released."
The Guitar Master
She brought her guitar to his shop, hoping he could fix it. As he fondled the wooden curves of the instrument, she shivered. When he discovered a tiny fracture, she blushed with shame. That's where she took out her frustrations with a slap. Sometimes with a fist. Would he ever look at her or make conversation while he filled in the gap where the edges separated? She'd wandered in a couple a times afterward to say hello. One time, his friend dropped by, a fellow musician. As she left, the man glowered at her. A warning that she was trespassing.
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All my books, Paradise Ridge, When the Horses Come and Go, and Ghost in the Forest are currently available on Kindle. Ghost in the Forest, is also available in paperback. Paradise Ridge is out-of-print, but the Kindle version is re-edited and better quality.
Moon, spoon, June, cardoon . . . Love how you pulled out that rhyme!
A remarkable little collection, Sue -- fourteen lines of sweet nostalgia, an exhilarated piano brought to life, and a metaphor that I haven't yet deciphered. An intriguing line, "...he filled in the gap where the edges separated..." We never know what you will bring us. Thank you!