An ancient piano rests silently
in its forgotten memory.
The room deserted for decades.
Pale sunlight struggles to glimmer
through the grim-coated windows.
Those tall, elegant windows,
once so beautiful in their simplistic design.
Dark oak windowsills are cloaked in
layers of yellowed, frayed curtains.
Once stunning in their lacy lengths.
Enough light is gleaned to shadow
the sole object of the place;
a dusty, crippled piano.
Its keys are stained, the pearly whiteness faded.
The black glossiness coated in filth,
the fantastic grandeur diminished.
Once the grandest sight, it sat in its royal kingliness.
A sheet of music rests tenderly
on the weary instrument.
Weary from long years of painful silence.
The paper is tearing at the corners,
dismayed at the lack of protection from
the withering sun. Its pure white complexion
In ruined, tanned; left with old coffee stains.
A gentle old clock hangs from the cracking walls,
unperturbed by the lack of company.
Unperturbed, for time is but a little concern
to one who’s life depends upon it.
A wooden chair stands quietly by
the rough-hewn desk,
which waits for a coat of polish.
Waits at the long-shut door.
Everything sits in continuous monotony.
Monotony that drags on forever.
For what else can they do?
The door creaks!
Its rusty hinges give ready protest.
All wait in foreboding quiet,
wait for the visitor to leave.
“This door is jammed.”
But no…
in steps a girl.
She makes her way to the forlorn piano,
footsteps thudding heavily.
With each step, dust particles rise in a furious frenzy.
The groaning floorboards complain
over the unwelcome use.
Unwelcome, for who should like to be stood upon?
The weight continues to slam down
till she reaches the piano bench,
forgotten till now in his master's shadow.
With a slender hand she pulls it out,
and sits, unmindful of the dirt.
Elegant fingers stroke the keys lovingly,
A caress, before she begins to play.
With the first sound, tinny banging fills the air.
Fills the air, ends the silence.
The long cold reign of silence.
She continues to play, the notes softening.
Yellow departs from the keys,
dust slowly disappears, clean and bright the room becomes.
With sweet echoes resounding.
With each note, each key pressed,
The room regains its splendor.
The tinny piano, long forgotten,
Sings now in melodious praise.
Praise to the girl who killed the silence.
Adoration is evident in the very tones of the instrument.
For unearthly music spills forth.
Beautiful notes dance in the air…
from now unto forever...
This is a poem I 'recreated'. I wrote it like 3 years ago, but it was lost. It was one of my favorite works, and so I tried to write another one the same. This new one is much longer, and of course, different then the original, but the theme is the same. Please critique! Tell me if you think it's too long! Thanks!!
