A line of keys
Black and white
Sharply defined
Dark and light

Corners and edges
Lines perfect and straight
Hint at the beauty
It can create

Ascending notes
Birds flying high
Into the music
Of a paper sky

Blending chords
Notes high and low
Clearly singing
Like a river’s flow

Whispers soft
Gently rustle
Like a sweet old man’s
Friendly whistle

Thunderously loud
And ringing true
To the lion’s roar
He cannot subdue

Dynamics and rhythms
Being combined
With a melody so sweet
So gentle and kind

Composers many
Have played its keys
Capturing the wild
In the waves and seas

Have you cried with Beethoven
Standing in the moonlight
As Elise leaves you behind
With a sad goodnight?

As notes slow down
The birds come to a stop
Hands lift up from
The silent piano top

Keys become straight again
Severely black and white
Leaving no trace of the music
That flies free as a kite