Written by: Paris-Maree Boreham

Old pianola and still standing tall,
one hundred years old against the bearing wall.
Waiting silently for tender loving care,
an instrument or household ware?

Heavy to play and hurts her hands,
yet it still quietly commands ...
to be played- a note, a bar, a piece,
for hammers and strings are yet to cease.

Missing keys and keys not level,
though soldiers on for designed special.
Missing it's other, the pianist,
for with each other they are blessed.

When they're both together-make harmony thrive;
the piano and pianist, together alive.