The Painting in the Parlor

Here I am, 
Watching from the wall,
Just part of the scenery,
I’m seen by all,
But rarely noticed,
I am just the painting in the parlor,
I see who comes and goes, 
In this house that is not my own,
I hear secrets, 
But never tell a soul that I know,

Day by day, 

I watch, 

And day by day, 

I fade.

Filling the Silence

She sits with perfect posture,

The ivory keys await  her touch,

The notes on the page in front of her,

Pleading to be heard,

Respectful silence engulfs the audience,

A single note sounds,

Startling the silence,

Like a solitary bird chirping in the morning

Notes pour from the piano,

Like raindrops,

Hesitantly,

Then,

Full of confidence,

Somewhere,

In the sea of  notes,

Hides a young girl,

But all that is noticed,

Is the music.