Midnight: she passes the mirror in the hall on the way to the bathroom.
But light reflects from the gold that was once in her hair.
She stops for the moment that is gently falling.
12.15am: She’s at the piano.
Her tears – the perfect weight on the soft pedal,
her wisdom – the perfect phrasing on the sustain pedal,
as she story-s the gold’s journey to not sepia.
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