Ode To Piano

There you sit, My baby grand, Elegant and serene, Full of untapped potential. Your keys that sing Like lovely songbirds When struck right Lay silent in waiting. From across the globe, Masterpieces arise. From ballrooms and church halls, Your melodic voice rings. You are a siren; formerly loved For allure and charm, Now discarded over the ages, Though your grace still holds true. But alas, your beauty is being forgotten. Your dissonant chords No longer a means of expression, But a chore forced down throats. That is not what you are to me. I take my seat in front of you And brush the dust from your keys. Little black birds on telephone wires Scattered across the pages Flit around in spite of me, Impossible to keep up with. I glance at the familiar names Written at the tops- Beethoven and Bach, Mozart and Chopin. They did not fabricate your marvel, But simply tamed those Little Black Birds.