Antique: A Poem

Hi there! This is a short poem I wrote this morning, inspired by this image, whilst trying to forget the fact that I actually have to do schoolwork and stuff…I am dusty and forgotten

Like an antique piano, never played,

Purposeless and barely ornamental, covered

In cotton dust sheets in the corner of a long abandoned room,

Waiting.

 

The stark contrast of my keys has faded,

To a thousand shades of grey, without colour;

My woodwork,

The tone of a black-and white photograph.

 

One day, I know,

The floorboards will creak with the sound

Of someones feet, and I,

Unveiled at last, will have fingertips

Trailed through my dust.

They will find me broken, and out of tune.

But they will make music all the same.

 

And so,

I await a pianist, who

Will know me for what I am

And love me all the same.


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