Black, white and green,
A perfect combination.
I place them gently on the keys,
When everything is silent and asleep
And wait for moonshine
(I want the moment to be special after all.)
I’ve thought long and hard about the choice of music,
And have chosen Bach, the obvious choice,
For they need something that doesn’t require much pedal
(the weight of the peas and the pressure required
To depress the pedal
Would after all make it
I hide under the table,
For sometimes an audience can make people nervous.
My breath is bated,
Every moth movement makes me prickle
And tingle in exquisite anticipation,
willing the divine counterpoint to dance,
just as the heavens weave our fates together.
I wait for the moment,
For after all if the whole universe sprung from nothingness,
Then surely peas could dance and make music,
sweet, sweet music.
But nothing happens.