I coil my fingers atop the glossy keys,

my foot suspended above the brass pedal,
my neck heated by kind eyes, waiting...

They project a perpetually cheery facade,
smiling, laughing, and clapping--carefree,
their eyes the only holes in a cloak of contentment...

A creased nest for crows’ feet,
constructed atop a tree rooted in
sleepless nights and a lifetime’s anxiety...

My fingers begin their slow dance.
Her eyes flutter shut, her head tilts back.
Century-old wrinkles unfold into a smooth plane...

Lifeless eyes without the cover of lashes,
long since fallen from this young child,
the undeserving victim of sickness...

The tempo builds--my fingers begin to blur.
Vitality springs from the keys to the wheelchair.
His now-bright eyes gleam with renewed strength...

Droopy eyelids suspended over glassy eyes--
a patient’s mom who suffers from a paradox.
She is the tired owner of a restless mind...

The melody softens and slows gradually.
Her eyes flutter shut, face muscles relax.
She resigns to pent-up exhaustion at long last...

The final note reverberates in the room.
Wrinkles re-emerge from an abyss of weathered skin.
Life leaves young eyes, tired eyes wake again...

A smile graces my lips as exit the hospital.
But as I catch my reflection in the car window,
sadness stares back at me, trapped in my eyes...