Dusting Off These Piano Keys

I pulled the cold and old electric Glarry piano out the closet and make happy music again; this one was the sensational joy of Claudio, he played it until he was tired and laid down! The first thing he'd do is to attune to his feeling, he'd sit down and play the Fifth of Bethoven; nothing ever bothered him, he kept on going: perfection wasn't something hard to attain! Dusting off these piano keys with a dampened rag, I treat it gently, leaving no visible smears but shine; oh, an attempt to play it incites temptation to brag! Would nostalgia be emotional and utterly sublime? This piano was wrapped for twenty years in a white sheet, ignored and forgotten by me to deny my sorrow until now; my music was heard two blocks away, it delighted Juliet: she gladly came around, applauded and cried somehow! Dusting off these piano keys once flicked by fingers that loved life, this idle mind will create new melodies to whisk away all boredom; I have endured enough desolation, don't I desperately need freedom to break away from a long winter with days without warm sunshine?