The Piano

The dark upright stood, 

Relatively unnoticed,  

Next to the warm TV; 

Black and white portraits  
Were arranged on top 

Around my father's trophies  

For curling and snooker 

And a Fiddler on the Roof music box; 

The wooden mammoth featured  

In photos for generations, 

Silent in the background, 

Like an 88-year-old in the geriatric wing 

Whose teeth were rarely seen; 

My mother's standard excuse for not 

Fingering its keys more frequently 

Was her daily practice  

Of cooking and cleaning 

From sunrise to sunset; 

It was something to note 

When songs of sunshine and snow 

Drifted through the house; 

When the great grandmother's heart  

Stopped, never to beat again 

There was no discord 

Over which sibling would inherit it; 

Miracle of miracles  

It was mine 

But first the cumbersome lumber 

Was placed in storage 

And then relinquished to a church 

Before, by fate, 

It was finally redeemed 

And I was majorly relieved; 

The centenarian and I  

Are learning new tricks 

After all this time 

I only wish I were a rich gal 

All day long I'd be playing, 

If I were a wealthy gal