That Uncivilized Piano
Tonight was going to make yarn. But the piano next to the wheel was insistent.
Have only a handful of songs. I sing at myself. 10 or so, maybe. And more when working regularly. Chopin and Cave. Angel from Montgomery. 200 more miles. More. But mainly, just 10orso.
Catching a new is joyful but the figuring a challenge. Arduous. Old dogs. Excuses. Only need the one thing: Time will turn that page.
There were two new. And then three. A love letter but missing one chord then found. And you wanna make it hard on me. Need to hear you say goodbye.
Couple more to sing at myself.
No. Never. Funny you should ask. No. Yes there was a time when it was so. I don’t think. But
There is no one knows my voice now.