It's Still Life

The Piano

The piano goes in the basement.
Dad insisted. He said he couldn’t
hear the TV when I practised.

Our piano was missing two back wheels.
Lost them when the piano fell down
the basement stairs.

It was a laid-back thing. Looked drunk
up against the cement block wall.
That wall, always wet during winter.

Just opposite it was a full height
cupboard filled with preserves, and
canned fruit and veg. Best pickles ever.

Next to that: a wringer wash machine.
Mum called in a mangle.

Later Dad had a change of heart.
He taught himself to play the piano.
He was 82.

I reckon that everyone harbours
a song somewhere inside them.

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AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4b) Image and poem ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter #amwriting