Friday, September 3, 2004Monday's LessonsMy hands still on the piano, afraid the venomous keys may strike, I pull back but then, in wild frustration I pound the ivory so hard, the man from across the hall taps an angry broom at the door. “Michela, shut that child!” My mother smiles brilliantly oh, how the moon envies her skin the soft... Sign in to see full entry.posted by MiaElla at 7:31 PM Comments (13) (permalink) |