Non-Erotic PoetryBobbieShe shuffled to the piano
painfully, slowly,
supported
by the daughter
she no longer recalls.
Gnarled, stiff hands,
so fragile and thin,
grasp at sheet music
as unfamiliar as hieroglyphs.
She stared at those pages
and down at the keys
before finally, haltingly
plinking random notes.
This woman, once renowned
for her independence,
her stubbornness,
now frail and lost
within a home
she can't remember.
Playing piano in her
own private hell.
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