Silver
An age-old woman-Rebeca Black Late 50’s, flower in her silver black hair- Stands beside a piano and takes a sip of a drink Stiffer than her bones. The piano begins to play- almost by itself- As his fingers glide across ivory- The same color of her milky skin- The same color as the flower in her silver black hair. A rose- picked from her garden at sunrise- Dew still fresh on the petals- Sweat beads forming on her brow as her voice begins to quake- An age-old dream dying with her. The petals begin to fall as her face turns too pale. Stiff- like the drink that fell to the floor hours ago. An age-old dream forgotten with her silver black hair. |