[Poem] The Old Piano

 

The old piano, worn and brown,

Its keys once ivory, now mellowed down.

 

A faded photograph tucked inside,

A young girl's smile, with fingers wide.

 

The silent strings, a promise kept,

Of melodies that gently slept.

 

A hand caresses, a touch so light,

Waking memories, bathed in moonlight.

 

A hesitant note, then another rings,

A dusty song, with fragile wings.

 

The music builds, a cascade of sound,

Memories dance, emotions unbound.

 

The old piano, a vessel true,

Of joy and sorrow, whispered through.

 

The final chord, a lingering sigh,

A story told, beneath a tearful eye.