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Rachel Anderson, 19 Aug '12

When they tell the story of my life
Do you think they'll play violins in the background?
I'd fancy myself to be a Classic girl,
But if we're being honest, I belong in Baroque.
After all, hasn't my life been just a field of staccato moments
With the occasional ornament,
And, for the most part, been written in A minor key?
"Gee, you're sharp" - No, not really...

It's funny,
So much of my life has been spent
On that bench, in front of those keys
But it's taken me until now to fully comprehend
The balance of pianoforte behind doors opened
By combinations of black and white keys...

Who knew that a C flat could B so natural?
To most ears, it would sound the same.
But it tips the scale every time.

That reminds me of you- tipping the scales:
We met on an upbeat
And, in time, fell deeply in rhythm with each other
But it wasn't nearly as easy as we made it sound.
We were making it up as we went along...

We had our syncopations -
I thought they were all minor
Because you said "we're Fine."
But we weren't ... or were we?

(Pull out your hemidemisemis, this is where it gets tense,)

"Let's take the next step, start a new score"
But you wavered...
I thought you were just nervous.

"Just breve for a minim then rest
Until you've gathered your nerve."
But you had already decided that we'd gone far enough.

I suppose I must not have
Learned the value of good balance...
I put my rhythm ahead of our melody
And all I have to show for it
Is a blur of well-timed notes,
A life that would look good on paper
But doesn't play out very well...

Maybe they shouldn't play violins
As background for my life story.
I might have better luck with drums...