The Old Piano

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The old piano
with the loose h-key
Stands looming in the corner
Like everything's still glee
But sometimes i find things that are still around
A t-shirt with the smell
A picture witht the front side down

Everyday is a wounded animal that drags along
Until its only me and the news-anchor
And goodnight is his only song
I could have been somewhere else
But every place is the same
A room without walls
A town where you never came

I could have been your clothes
I could have been where you go
I could have been your clothes
And the wind in your hair

And I can see you looking at me
from a picture on the wall
And I can hear your voice
say; leave a message, if I call

On a piano that should have been attuned
I play a song tonight
that ive long since marooned
I could have been your clothes
I could have been where you go
I could have been your clothes
And the wind in your hair

 

[freefall]

Haven't read your poems in a long time. A very alluding, evocative read indeed