604: Practice 

She plays her scales
on our upright piano,
her late hour practice
is appassionato.

Her traveling completed,
enough notes pressed,
the white keys gleam
in this switched darkness.

I revel in the room’s
serene composure,
I am left alone
in our echo chamber.

I hammer this review
into lowly verse,
my midnight rehearsals
are never heard.

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