Would I rather sit close
Watch someone else’s fingers
fly across the keyboard of the Steinway baby grand

Or lean into the embrace
of nightclub darkness
and remember how your fingers did the same?

Would I rather pay for the front row seat
to look and feel important
pretend sophistication?

Or hang back, anonymous,
Relive your effortless joy when at the piano
that maybe recalled memories of your own?

You wanted me to pick up that mantle,
but I didn’t have the patience to practice
or the courage to make mistakes.

So now I sit back
Sway to what’s played and feel
your presence

Instead of being
Distracted by
the present.