Note: Wrote late at night, while hungry, and listening to Something Corporate.
Drabble. My first Drabble. I'm proud.
She looked at it, looked at it hard.
Oh, the feeling of the smooth wood under her fingers, a dark endless brown.
The keys, like white teeth and back chocolate bars.
It looked elegant, yet playful in the most serious way.
But the sound, that's what got her.
It reminded her of twinkling stars, the soft sweet pitter patter of rain, the tick tock of a clock, or the simple patter of an impotent person's fingers when they were bored.
It sat in her living room, standing tall and proud, in front of the screened in porch. Facing where the sun rose.
In the morning, the sun rise was straight ahead.
In the after noon, the sun was not in one's eyes but filled the room with a calm golden glow.
In the night, the sound of crickets could be heard from the outside when the porch door was propped open.
The piano was beautiful.
She played it often, everyday, several times a day.
When the night's were hard and the days were long.
When with an audience or by herself.
On Christmas day or Easter Weekend.
While crying or smiling.
In rain or shine
Some people loved the violin; some would say the guitar, the flute, or the bass guitar.
She played all of those.
But, if asked what her favorite I instrument was, Iola Natalie Morton would say the piano