Her Song

I see a room.

It is dark and filled with dusty old books and things many have long forgotten. The only light I see is that which comes from a large and lonely window. But it is raining outside, so the room remains in shadow. In front of the window I see an worn piano.
At it a small girl sits.

Playing.

Her dress is white and plain. Her hair dark and long. And if we listen closely we can hear her song as her fingers pass silently over the stained keys. The melody is haunting. Timidly she raises her eyes,looking out of the window into the rain....she is looking for something.

Searching.

But we see only the rain falling softly to the earth.....but wait. Someone is outside. The little girl sees but does not stir. She continues to play. We look closer. No, that can not be, it is not possible. Outside of the window, twirling in the rain, is the little girl. The very same one who is at the same time inside, playing. How can this be? Oh, but look; the little girl outside is laughing. Her hands are stretched high above her head and it seems as if she is reaching out to something, someone.

She is dancing.

Her joy is evident. But she stops. She has seen the window. She smiles softly and beckons to the small girl inside to join her. But she only turns away, still playing the hollow tune. And as she does the little girl outside slowly fades....and is gone.

The song plays on.

But look, what is this? Rain drops on the keys? How did they come to be there? The little girl does not seem to notice for she does not cease. A silent tear steals down her pale cheek and there, it has fallen to the piano. Her hand slips. A note is struck. Her song ends.

And she is alone.