The Piano Stand
I was sitting at the piano stand,
cracking my hands, getting ready to play,
when a man walked in, no one knew who,
he was, because no one had seen him in a while.
He sat in a chair, his hair so blonde and long as could be,
my hand touched the piano key,
I realized it was my dad not that it was bad,
just why was he here, i can't bare to see his face.
I stopped playing,
I started saying,
How mad i am for his fame,
He walked out of the school in shame.
I wondered why he was famous and what for,
He left me and my brothers to be poor,
For some other.
I can never forgive him,
but i'll let him live on in his fame,
for i have nothing to shame.
For i knew he would not claim,
me as a daughter or friend.
I moved my hands from the keys on the piano,
for i have moved on to another Piano Stand.
Copyright © Shayla Dendinger | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment