I.
while pillows comfort dreams,
Vonnie S.
At seven years old, I did not like my piano teacher. I
dragged my way through lessons with dread, more often than once. I won’t be
able to start liking the instrument for another year. In the living room, my
mom tells me not to stare at the cracked walls and old tattered manuscript books. Puny
toes stretched onto the cold pedals while the interest threatens to burn. The boom
of arpeggio and major keys are in the music sheets and piano keys. I’m too
young to be scared of things left behind.
while pillows comfort dreams,
Vonnie S.

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