The Pianist...

Perched on a swinging chair,
Gazing onto the front,
The pianist sways his fingers -
Tapping the keys
Petting a mouse,
      From time to time;

Making not a sound
But the clatter of keys,
Feeling nothing at all
But scanning -
      Something on a screen;

And his eyes wander
And his fingers dance
And his head turns...

And so ...our pianist runs.