Mice in the piano

A fellow writer,

 and I am talking about you Margie,

mentioned something.

Apparently,

 I keep my writes short.

I also tend to turn seemingly random moments into a cognitive stream.

Fancy way of saying I make a story out of what doesn't seem to be a story.

So,

  just so everybody knows,

    this is Margie's fault.

The keys played themselves.

  Echoing throughout the house.

Some would think of a haunting,

 but it was a bit more mundane.

Tiny invaders,

  attempting to find a new home.

Sadly,

 the keys are now quiet,

and the piano sits silent.

I hate to say the mice could play better than me.

Reviews

[Crowley]

Lol....that Margie, I love her!!!! And look what happens! A frolic of epic proportions! Loved it!!!

[Jon Roggie]

I couldn't resist. I felt she deserved a laugh!

[barleygirl]

You titled this piece so imaginatively, you must’ve known I couldn’t resist clicking on it. I have no idea how I ended up to blame for all this, since I’m an aficionada of frogs & lizards, but not mice. Sometimes we end up nose-to-nose with one of these little invaders & it’s hard to hate ‘em when their bulbous eyes are so cute & earnest! You captured this tug-of-war between being invaded & being invited to play. I feel honored to find my name in your poem with great surprise! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Jon Roggie]

I can't be serious all of the time, and you did say my writes are short! Somehow it all got added with the rodent problem. I am still using my elevation change excuse.

[barleygirl]

Stop rubbing it in. I'm jealous!

[Jon Roggie]

The thing is looking at the trails going down to the river. I am in no kind of shape for that!

[barleygirl]

I'll be praying for your knees *smile*

[Jon Roggie]

I just want to take a trip to Monterey!