p.155

I am drawing; boldly, darkly.

Scribbling, then rubbing, smudging,
scrunching up and starting over.
I hear a voice say, “Lightly, child.
Lightly”

Draw softly— dark strokes come
later, but for now,
draw lightly, lightly.”

I pound upon the ivory keys,
sounding, resounding through
the house.

Chords go awry, clashing, wincing,
I hear a voice say, “Lightly,
child. Lightly. Your brother’s
sleeping; just for now, play
lightly. Lightly.”

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