yayyyyy lol this has got to be a crime i automatically clicked when i saw 'piano'. CLICKBAIT. anyways, hopefully we may get to see some piano related poetry???? oooooooooooooooo
a/n: I was originally writing this as a short story, and I still plan to write it that way, but I wanted to get a poem out and thought this would be cool. So enjoy! I know it kind of falls flat at the end but I will fix that either here or in the story.
I don’t think I could ever live in a home without a piano. That is, I don’t think anywhere could ever be home to me without a piano. I’m not talking about one of those plastic keyboards you can take anywhere. I mean the instrument that makes you the center of attention. A real piano, with copper strings that vibrate in front of your very eyes and keys that jam at the most inconvenient times. A work of art in itself. My front room has been filled with the sound of my piano playing for nine years. Sometimes I wish I could apologize to it for the early years. How many times must it have heard the simplified version of Yankee Doodle? How many times had it seen my dogs leave the room in fear that their ears might bleed? Too many to count. But I still know that simplified Yankee Doodle by heart. C, C, D, E, C, E, D, C, C, D, E, C, B, C, C, D, E, F, E, D, C, B, G, A, C, C. “Touch A Rainbow” was the first song that made me feel like a real pianist. I am not a real pianist–I can't play all Fur Elise by memory– but Touch A Rainbow was my first piece where the notes sounded refined together. The melody sounds less sophisticated as time passes, and my teacher shoves newer, more advanced sheet music on my music desk, but my dad still requests that I play it from time to time. My piano is a part of me, as is my arm or my soul. I could not function without it, without being able to sit on its bench. Without it, I am nothing. Without it, I have no home.
with syllable counts: Spoiler
I don’t think I could ever live in a home without a piano. That is, (19) I don’t think anywhere could ever be home to me without a piano. (19) I’m not talking about one of those plastic keyboards you can take anywhere. (19) I mean the instrument that makes you the center of attention. (16) A real piano, with copper strings that vibrate in front of your very eyes (19) and keys that jam at the most inconvenient times. A work of art in itself. (19) My front room has been filled with the sound of my piano playing for nine years. (19) Sometimes I wish I could apologize to it for the early years. (16) How many times must it have heard the simplified version of Yankee Doodle? (19) How many times had it seen my dogs leave the room in fear that their ears might bleed? (19) Too many to count. But I still know that simplified Yankee Doodle by heart. (19) C, C, D, E, C, E, D, C, C, D, E, C, B, C, C, D, E, F, E, D, C, B, G, A, C, C. (2-) “Touch A Rainbow” was the first song that made me feel like a real pianist. (19) I am not a real pianist–I can't play all Fur Elise by memory– (19) but Touch A Rainbow was my first piece where the notes sounded refined together. (19) The melody sounds less sophisticated as time passes, (15) and my teacher shoves newer, more advanced sheet music on my music desk, (19) but my dad still requests that I play it from time to time. (14) My piano is a part of me, as is my arm or my soul. (16) I could not function without it, without being able to sit on its bench. (19) Without it, I am nothing. (7) Without it, I have no home. (7)
Would love to read whatever short story that last poem potentially morphs into <3 I can totally relate to a living space not feeling truly complete without anywhere for musical expression. In the house I grew up in, we actually had a separate room called the "piano room" and I definitely felt its absence when I went away to college - thankfully have a little keyboard now though and also more random instruments to keep me occupied. Very relatable piece though, and nice use of repetition in several places to get the message clearly and even more passionately across.
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
Also the graphic on the first post looks very you. 
