Tim Meacham

Bike and piano 

During winter they sat on opposite sides of the front room. The room kept for “best”, for guests and for laying out. Still forms held by the still space. Warm under a sheet with ears folded, the bike stared through the bay window in an endless dream of distance.

In the evenings, the girl visited to play the piano. The bike, ears pricked, would listen and some of the latent tension in both frames was released through both hands and feet