The Old Piano

There is a space in the room
unfilled by music and
an instrument , an investment
waiting to bloom.
The classes would be
a chore for the present
an investment resented.

The hours of practice
instead of kicking a ball
Made to study
large keys for fingers so small

And now the old piano
stood patiently waiting
and he had finished hating
Music now was his core


His parents now dead
perhaps his kindred
might learn and be fed.
An instead of resentment
He mourned.

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