The Piano

 

Squealing laughs and mismatched notes,

Memories often forgotten. 

The feeling remains and 

Lets us think back in fondness.

Tomorrow is another battle

Or another stall along 

Our journey to wherever we try to go.

Practicing through minutes and hours

Teasing out the tune and soul

I want to hear.

Dedication, perseverance.

Words that feel 

More than they speak. 

Deep breath, it’ll come. 

Practice fingers, get it right.

Practice all night until dawn. 

Silence. Still keys. Sadness.

With eyes glued to screens

It sits against the wall-

Out of tune, covered in dust.

It becomes a better shelf than a centerpiece.

Simple joy set aside

To chase endorphins for a momentary high. 

~By Tara Varney