on which to play music games,
giggling girls guessing if the tune matches
"Summer Afternoon" or "The Ghost in the Hall."
Fractions make the leap from page to chords
hanging in the air like ripe fruit.
We grew up with a grand piano in the
parlor down the hall, pushing sofas
together to play pirates on the open sea,
making music when no one else was around.
We knew better than to bang delicate keys,
friends to be respected, fingered tenderly.
The music at home was best,
Mama playing while we took turns joining her
on the bench, Daddy coming in on the
chorus if he happened to walk through the room.
We never had a piano when our kids were young,
and now the one we have is leaving. Last year's
Mother's Day, moving sale surprise (really a divorce)
I haven't used as much as planned. It's moving again,
this time for taxes on the house that made room for it
in a corner. It looked nice there
but pianos are meant
for so much more.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012
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