The young girl stumbled through the house after exploring it thoroughly. She came across a grand piano made of mahogany wood and it’s keys were clean and dusted. Her eyes became wide and her mouth dropped as she made her way towards it.
i used to play piano when i was little
my teacher was mean and would slap my hands when i did not play it right
i love the way the piano looks and its so peaceful
you can play anything smiles, tears its perfect for anyime
The piano had always been there, since I was a child. Since before my father was a child. It was sorta like that tree in the yard, come to think of it. Always there. Nobody ever touched it, or talked about it, but we always accepted it.
Piano day, make it rain. I once saw your face. It reminds me of a song. You’re away now. I understand, we are but ships passing in the night. And way you go….
The black and white keys unlock the secret notes to someplace better. Someplace better. Everything seems to flow; one key after the other, black, white, white, black, press the pedal, hear the song. I can escape here, when the music curls around my eardrums and caresses my soul.
The first time I really enjoyed playing the piano was when I was at a friend’s house and played a really soulful version of the Arcade Fire’s Tunnels. It felt liberating to reinvent a song in that way.
Many play this instument, but why? I don’t.
The young girl stumbled through the house after exploring it thoroughly. She came across a grand piano made of mahogany wood and it’s keys were clean and dusted. Her eyes became wide and her mouth dropped as she made her way towards it.
“It’s… lovely,” she whispered to herself.
the clock ticks away as i ponder the piano and all it’s errie sounds.
I have one. I play it. Sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes there’s cat butt prints on it.
i used to play piano when i was little
my teacher was mean and would slap my hands when i did not play it right
i love the way the piano looks and its so peaceful
you can play anything smiles, tears its perfect for anyime
keys are played to make beautiful music
The piano had always been there, since I was a child. Since before my father was a child. It was sorta like that tree in the yard, come to think of it. Always there. Nobody ever touched it, or talked about it, but we always accepted it.
And then one day, it was gone.
dream, fingers, white
beautiful, soothing gentle and refreshing. The keys tell many stories all of interst…..
Piano day, make it rain. I once saw your face. It reminds me of a song. You’re away now. I understand, we are but ships passing in the night. And way you go….
musical and soothing, wooden and ivory.
I love to play the piano..
The black and white keys unlock the secret notes to someplace better. Someplace better. Everything seems to flow; one key after the other, black, white, white, black, press the pedal, hear the song. I can escape here, when the music curls around my eardrums and caresses my soul.
The first time I really enjoyed playing the piano was when I was at a friend’s house and played a really soulful version of the Arcade Fire’s Tunnels. It felt liberating to reinvent a song in that way.