...
I see you
and how
your dark
and ebony
walls
reflect our world,
like deep,
still waters.
Tainted,
yet pure.
As I walk,
to you keys
my fingers
graze them,
and their
ivory tops,
smooth as the
polished marble
you stand on.
The ivory sinks
beneath my
hands,
then rises.
Your pedals
slurr my notes,
lightening
and blending them,
like wind,
turned to
breeze.
The melodies
roll from
your center,
like miniature
streams.
They fit
the mood
I find myself
in each night,
allowing me
to escape.
They sing
through the
window,
absorbed, by
the darkness
of that night,
and I find
myself,
here,
with you
Estonia.
