Ragtime Refugee

Ragtime Refugee   The black and white keys sit. Settled on the antique piano. A older, slender gentleman pulls a marble bench. He replies,"Hello, my name is Gippetto." Like a master and its puppet, his dark digits begin to tango. The sound of blunt reality begin to fuse to a tender realm, taming a inner beast. To the climax, falls a dead hault. Where the 5-beat lets silence seep. The audience now applauding. Slowly resurrecting the sound of just one key. Belting out vibrations! Pulsating on a fine line of clarity. By Patrick Paul Shawver