The Moment

The morning had begun like it had so many times before. The slow transition from darkness to grey, the silent magical collision that makes the sky blue. You hear the rush of the cars outside, the hush of life down below. You walk out onto your terrace to stare at nothing in particular. Just sit and stare, to be apart of something more than yourself. You hear fingers dancing along the ivory and black keys. Their sound takes you somewhere, someplace better than where you are. You began to glide your bow and across the strings, playing along with the ivory. Then you glance down as you play. You see her standing there, immersed in the moment you helped create. She is natural, her beauty accompanies what is being played. She's just standing there looking off into the morning, nursing her coffee. Nothing is more real than this moment. Nothing can truly describe what is seen. Nothing can describe what is felt. The fingers dancing on the ivory, your bow gliding across the strings and her standing, soaking it all in. We close our eyes, dive deeper in the magic. Everything around is drowned out. Everything else fades. We simply appreciate the moment.