The Piano

I hit the keys,

Piano vibrates with the sound, I don’t know the cords, can’t replicate the tune.

My fingers fly in blind passion, looking for a song to suddenly form, The keys are at my mercy.

I bang away all night until the neighbors begin to cry. I do not know how to play this damn thing.

But I hit the keys looking for the elusive tune.

Dust flies every which way as I play at playing.

Fingers are sore, one is even starting to bleed as I hit the keys.

The Piano sighs and wishes I would go away.

Brenda Cowan


About leeskid (Brenda Cowan)

Breathing, writing, listening
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