Oh ye wooden carcass
awaiting strings and tension,
Enjoy your decades of touchless rest
Clothed in dragon and lion ornament
But unvarnished against the dust.
I always meant to make you whole
And learn to play across your chest.
Instead you’ve sheltered behind
the piano’s sounding board,
Absorbing time and tempo
Waiting, waiting to debut
With an old soul,
And we would exchange glances,
to mark the close of our secret.
No complaints. No whines.
Nothing out of tune.
But as full of possibility as full can muster.
As ready for pegs and wires as a soldier sits ready
In the bunker.
Ready to burst with a volley of pent-up song.
I meant to make you whole.
Keep the whispers you have heard warm
Within your breast for me.