Like fog on a September pond, we can still hear quiet music in our hearts.


The Piano

Sitting alone in the corner,
Walnut burnish fading
In the setting sun tonight.
Ivory keys faded to the color
Of long ago happy smiles.

Top no longer raised,
Just a piece of musical
Furniture taking up space
In this room of windows
Looking out on the lake.

Changing times long ago
So out of tune in this world,
Silenced this place of music
And merriment and light
So bright to read verses by.

Dust covered on a Sunday,
Silenced like hope in a dream,
This stoic piano rests in a corner
Of life's quietest melodies
Heard tonight by only you and I.




Poetry by Morpheus
Read 556 times
Written on 2008-10-13 at 03:52

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I love how you transformed a piano into a piece of poetry and made it a most enjoyable read. Hugs
2008-10-13


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Now an age ago , when thear were no telly , no radeo , at least one tht when a family could afford , on a Saturday night , Sunday affternoon , the family gather around the old piano , play it and sing , sadly now the piano , gathers dust , no one can remember , except old great granny , now the family each member has thear own singularly way's of entertaining them self 's, the soaps on the telly , fore mum , the PC , game console fore the teeny's , and the younger one's , the piano , gathers dust , only the woodworm's fore company ,

Thank's Jol , fore a good thourtful write

Ken ( D Williams )
2008-10-13