Our fingers dancing in unison across the pale white ivory
Every step presenting a new sound, a new melody which was
only broken every so often by the strident drumming of
frequently flood-lit phantom lightning.
The revealing of teeth of my father's and mine, the frigid
fingers of cold air running down our spine couldn't stall us.
It's amazing how a simple song, the tinkering of fingers, can
prompt a sentimental moment that would last a lifetime,
because here - in this dusty night-lit theatre, surrounded in
falling drops of the moon - the world's grief and hardship is
steadily dissolving away.
Gazing at our fingers prancing in front of us, I start to
dream and wander through the past, as somewhere in another
world I begin to slip into memory.
I sway to the tune, I start humming to the dark-edged chant
A certain note sparks a memory within me, instantly
transporting me back to a time when I was small, quiet and
When I would lie under the tired sun, arms spread out, eyes
fixed on the woolly white beings drifting across the scarlet
And with that, another note, another place. I am nestled in
my father's loving arms, resting on a cloud, studying the
black box which held captive our entertainment.
The smell of chocolate and marshmallows is swirling from our
Another note, another place. Sun beating on all those who
dared to go out into it, sitting on the stairs of an old
Mesmerised by the flow of water consuming the rocky shore in
front of me.
With that I'm transported back to the cold, dusty theatre, my
father and I tangled in a song, unbroken by my thoughts.
Fingers dancing in unison across the pale white ivory keys,
every step bringing up a memory, every step creating a new
one. As I'm sitting knee to knee with my father, arms
tangled, fingers transferring feelings to sound, I smile,
sway and sing to the dark-edged chant of storms.
- Tanita Lind, Year 10, Waitaki Girls' High