Metamorphosis
He touched the keys of the piano with her fingers, and sat on the bench. "I've been meaning to get back into that", he said in the nearby kitchen.
"Can you play anything?" He gave a laugh, and placed the teas on a nearby table.
"If you may sing along", he sat beside her.
"Can't help falling in love"
She didn't always sing, but she had a beautiful voice. Even if she may not think so herself. And as their voices danced; one higher, the other lower, it was a compliment. When it came to an end, the crackle of the fire arose. The room and temperature, inviting. Rain just beginning to patter on the roof. Is that what love is, he thought. A moment where the two of you only see each other and everything else is faded away? Distractions and problems all blurring into the background, an attention only on each other.
A moment words couldn't illustrate. Where sounds become more than just words or sentences. Coming together in the harmony of a song. A song that is sung to fill the heart...
Thoughts escaped. A beauty in life.
Knowing that as it came, it will soon go.
It was at that instant, he knew who had that lovely voice as he walked on the beach.
"Would you ever consider recording a cover with me?"
"Sounds like a duet."
...
Every gracious bird does fly, Grizzly bears don't fear anything- treble clef. All cows eat grass, Felines always catch everything- bass clef.
It wasn't the conventional acronym to learn- but my father loved nature.
But that was just to get started, the landmark system had more structure.
…
It's a heavenly thought. If life was simply a fairytale, for just the two of you. Like you see in the films.
Virginity. Whether you have lost it, or are still waiting, people often say that you never forget the first time you do something. The first love, the first kiss, the first time. Do you still remember your first? When you had a crush on someone and you had to be brave to talk, to be direct, to flirt. Should you save the best for last? What if the first was the last?
The more it is done, the less you remember, the less you feel, and the more comfortable you become.
If love was the reason you waited.
If love was the reason you played.
The first time you do something is a beautiful experience, because it is a moment of feeling that you will never get back. Always trying to find that first feeling again. So at whichever point you may be in your life… waiting, playing. Make attempts, but consider waiting for the first time, waiting for the right feeling, waiting for the one.
You can always play after that.
The last sentence is open to interpretation.
Though perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. Life is as meaningful or as casual as you make it to be.
