The Piano

Made with skill, the maker delighted
What a beautiful home it required.
A formal music room with Victorian tastes,
With lovers of music, all in place.



She was a genteel lady,
Taught to her from a baby.
To sit at the piano and play
Classical music of the day.



She also loved to sing,
Her voice with melodies ring.
As her fingers touched the keys,
Of the Grande that always pleased.



She would wear her red dress,
She loved to look her best.
As she played the beautiful songs,
Sometimes she'd play all the night long.



Then one day without warning,
She fell deathly ill....so much mourning.
The Genteel Lady of grace,
Would now be in Jesus' embrace.



So the piano sits there alone,
Never to hear it's wonderful tone.
The house deserted and wasting away,
Without her it stands in disarray.



It's past is buried and, alas, is gone,
But the melodies still live on.
If only someone would make a fuss,
Over the Grande, that sits covered in dust.



Shy and Siggy
© 2005 May 26