Notes rise out of my mouth
in patterns predicted only
by the book
on the dimly lit piano.
They tease one another
in intervals, fluttering higher
and falling,
and rising again
until my voice dances above the staff.
The scale seems wider here,
the notes freely
echoing off walls, pianos,
picture frames and flying
into the next room
and into the ears of my mother,
who smiles
for my song.