A place cool and warm,
Sitting patiently, sleeping quietly,
Unable to talk,
Whimpers in the corner of the room, whispering lightly.
Waiting for a chance to speak, its feelings,
Its voice lost in thoughts,
To sing as graceful as a harmonic nightingale,
Awakened from the distant drought.
Drumsticks skim and wildly hit the musical keys,
Fortissimo, Forte, Metro Forte, Metro Piano, Piano and Pianissimo,
Tempos, Ritardandos, Dynamics, most needed PLEASE!
Hammers hitting, keys bouncing all the while ‘O’.
My voice sings to the end of the hallway,
Attracting guests from all around,
Tempting its owner to play its heart's deepest desires anyway,
The longing to play, wilted away, my voice is now found.
A whiff of slow blues, expressing the sad, the deep emotions,
Joyful and lively it sings with contentment,
Jazz endings, maybe more lively,
Compositions running wild.
Contagious with delight, it never feels sorrow.
Waiting for the next exciting journey in its dreams.