Tappin' the Keys in Normandy

She blended in but
she stood out.
She looked everyone
in the eye; said her sweet "hi"
Her walker was just like
all the others but
hers seemed to sparkle
and didn't squeak.  She simply
glided down the hall
in her humble way.  She led me to
her piano.  Brought from home.
Alone.
Her music books scattered around;
waiting lovingly for her return.
She sat down rather gracefully and
almost purred.  The empty dining hall -
with its cracked, dirty floor and
broken swinging kitchen door -
an unexpected stage to her soft sage.
She stretched out her long fingers -
stretching out the wrinkles.  Her glittery
fingernail polish now scraped and fading -
like forgotten cupcake sprinkles.  She closed
her eyes and tapped out Ray Charles so poetically.
I sat in amazement.  Surely this was therapeutic
in some way.  She smiled.  I clapped.  She grabbed
another sheet and tapped.  2 more songs; ending with
the theme song from Titanic. 
It was slow.
In that dining hall, with the music from her
piano echoing hauntingly.
She stopped and we took the long walk back
to her crowded room.  In a corner, sat the picture of
her groom.  8 months gone and it seemed like yesterday.
I remember feeling that way.
Funny.  He looked like my dad.  Tears welling up
and I felt so sad.
She picked up the crocheted pot holder from her stack
of many. 
She asked me why her son didn't call back and then
smiled her sad smile and told me she had a show
to do on her piano.  The lonely piano tucked against
the wall of the dining hall.