I stop to doodle on the keys,
drawn by color and contrast
into this rift of reality,
the torn place
where the music seeps in
and bubbles in my soul.
It's long ago,
and far away,
like so many other gifts
I left behind;
I was, then, just a child,
and so I touch the keys
and feel -- yes --
young again,
and light,
and free
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