The Piano

There, resting in stoic frame, it

reflected its sheen surface; glowing

like a stilled black water river—The stage

mocking banks at high tide.

Ebony rowed keloids rose in-between

marshmallow like parallels—Aping

a skewed checkerboard smile

frozen in time: a 9 to 13 tuned ratio.

Marooned in this tuned ratio,

all held rhythmic visions

that veiled eyes could not see;

all held tuned sounds

that clogged ears could not hear.

88 heartbeats per time—Waiting.

There in stilled silence, lived an eternity

of unity—abiding  in melodic bliss:  a quiet

concerto of beauty—awaiting its released.