The Piano

Folder: 
Wayward Motions

The Piano sits still.



Beneath your gaze it



makes no sound.



But the Raindrops



force your fingertips to



bleed your soul upon the



Keys-



keys that have played a



thousand different melodies



And not once ever begged



for anything.



Not from Bach, Beethoveen,



you, nor me.



The Rain is hard driven,



I close my eyes and listen.



I try to imagine I'm being



pulled by the Undertow,



pulled into distant dreams,



Where songs are



Created-



Where the wind blows



and can be seen-



Where the immortal muse



finds her inspiration-



Where 'I had a dream'



dances within reality-



Where somewhere over



the Rainbow troubles



really do melt like lemon



drops-



Where tears fall dry and



sickness doesn't



Exist.



As your fingers are



dancing across the keys



and I finally open my eyes to



see-



I see those thoughts and dreams



as real as You



and me.



You bring them to life



The piano opens the way-



And I just sit here and watch;



savoring every Drop, ever Note-



Remembering this Day.



And then once again



the piano sits still.



Beneath your gaze it



makes no sound-



I can still see and I can still hear



the music; Your music.



It is always there .


Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this for my dad and was going to give it to him as part of a birthday gift... but he died shortly after I wrote it. (I made some changes to it after he passed away).

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Jake Sleutel's picture

this is sooo good, you really touched on your connection with your dad and if you placed this poem on his headstone he will get it somehow. Thanx for sharing your honest emotions with us...