The dancing pianist

Her dancing feet leaps back and forth,
The keys tinkling as she goes,
Repeating notes that in life,
With great decorum she played,
That now are played by her ghostly toes,
Merrily she spins around,
As on the day she died,
Her dress of lace,
And bone white shawl,
Like a flower blooming in the night,
She laughs and spins,
And dances some more,
But I notice that,
The notes are getting wild,
But the smile on her face is the same as always,
Her eyes I cannot see in the dark,
But it is enough to tell me this was my love,
She was definitely once my little skylark,
And when sings,
Her voice begins,
On a note so sad as to wring,
A sorrowful cry from the violin strings,
That have sat in dust and decay,
Ever since its mistress went away,
And I shiver in fear,
As her hands come so near,
They brush me with gossamer threads,
That chill my skin,
Even though it was me she once held dear,
And her voice - oh, her voice!
It runs through my soul,
Icy fingers gripping my heart,
Or what remains of the whole,
To hear the melody change,
I start to escape,
My hands clinging to the handles of the door,
When she steps down the keyboards,
Never touching the floor,
The melody becomes a cacophony of discord.

~Rei Shiori