The Piano

A romance between a pianist and her lost instrument.

Caged within the wood and strings, a song sleeps undisturbed.
The jaundiced keys stand holding hands,
looking up at the dusty bars in their windows.

The song in her cold hands still hums silently.
Stagnant fingers tangled, linked like handcuffs
rewinding memories of their last dance.

Scars reveal the golden core underneath the dirty cloak,
always snuggly wrapped, stifling.
Out-of-tune cry kept locked behind dry lips.

Her untouched fingers bulge at the knuckles
from so much cracking, tense.
Abandoned melody imprisoned by her fist.

I haven’t forgotten you,
though you lost the music long ago.

I haven’t forgotten you,
though you lost the music long ago.

Reviews

[An Ordinary Woman]

I agree- very well done. I absolutely love the second stanza, it so tender and elegant and sad.

Although I don't play (but wish I could) I love listening to the piano. Your poem is beautiful too.

[Pamela A. Lamppa]

Rich and vibrant in imagery and emotion.

How we must sound to our lost loves, our friends, our family - when time passes and our voice becomes hollow - off key, silent too long.

I enjoyed this very much. ~Pamela

[~The Queen~]

Very well done. Those teachers of your were right, you are good! Looking forward to reading more of your work sometime!

-The Queen