The Piano

I cannot bring myself to raise my eyes
from the dinner table – where you sat,
still the silent piano sits and will not
look away. I am not foolish enough
to touch a key again and sound the pain
of not knowing, of knowing I am all
the wrong fingers with the sheet music
there, open to the piano’s favorite song.

The sound of the spoon across the plate.

What you left is why
I clear the table with my back turned,
stopping to put Chopin on the stereo
since only he can sound the reason

we look away.

.

.

the whole first stanza was

the whole first stanza was amazing. if i could digitally give you an applause there would be on in place of this sentence.

Piano

oldaspirationsneverdie...7

I've always aspired to play the piano, and one day I'm going to
take piano lessons or voice. Your poem is fascinating because
of what you didn't say... I've read it several times and I get
more meaning from it each time I read, I would really like
to hear your interpretation of this poem! As you study Chopin
listening to the radio, the piano awaits and sits as you eat!

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