Piano

by Cindy Nichols

Originally published on May 1, 2001

There’s an earlier place I remember very well.  One with stairs. Music while I drifted up alone to sleep or look out, the same while I stumbled back down to the world. Or, days, my mother dusting, swabbed and banged the keys– She otherwise never got near it.  Never sang.  Maybe the way she’d sort [...]