A thought that has been running through my head lately when I think of beauty is a piano. When beauty enters my mind I close my eyes. I see a rose atop a piano like in those 'good ol' days' films. A hand that varies from young to old, woman to man, black to white, as if it didn't matter. The hand is playing so many beautiful songs, but the song (notes, rather) that I'm hearing is the hand playing a tune with the high-pitched keys. The fingers are dancing across the keys as if the song could last forever. However, it starts to slow down. I think it needs another hand to give it life. Everything is black and white. Although, the rose is the only thing with color. The rose gives it hope.
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