' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' 'Being Tilly (For Scarlett)

BEING TILLY “Tilly! ” “Get down before you..! ” like a kitten on the keys she tiptoes across the piano’s keys her footsteps leaving a trail of discordant notes all F sharps & E flats before she falls in a crashing crescendo from major to minor of notes sprawled across the softly carpeted floor. “Tilly! Tilly! ” my voice tries to catch her in mid-fall now she lies sulky all legs a-kim-bo. “I felled my self! ” She announces to her self disgusted that she failed in her scales. “Tilly...I told you don’t play on the piano! ” I scold her now that the fear ...has gone. “Me...not Tilly today! ” she says in a movie Red Indian way. “Oh &...just who are you? ” “Me...Frank! ” “Frank! ” “Yes...like Teddy! ” (Frank is her Frankenstein look-alike terrible teddy) “When I grow up I want to be a teddy! ” “Oh...you do! do you? ” Tomorrow she will be Tamara & then the day after Tamara a little Lulu. Doesn’t accept a name is a thing to be tied down to. She changes it day by day. A different name being a scapegoat for the nightly naughty things she does when sleep & counting sheep doesn’t seem to work. And today she’s Scheherazade She soaks up stories like the process of osmosis. Scheherazade fails to last a 1000 & one nights but nearly does. There’s a tinkle from the mooncast next room. “Tilly! ” “You on that piano again? ” (she never figures out how I know) . “No...” “...Lulu is! ” “Naughty Lulu! ” she scolds her other self. “Tilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly! ”