The piano

As an object of predetermined sound

I cannot sing alone or  out loud

For I need a master that abides

By the melodies of her heart's crown



Rule over me, yet follow the rules

As you see I'm not a tool

All my keys have a purpose,as every note has it's time

Anything different is considered fool's wine



I can sound beautiful, and be very sublime

I can make you more glamourus and divine

Yet You must control this body of mine

following the rules of perfect time.



I sing my notes and melodies

With complex fluency

You run your fingers along me

With  ingenuity



I am the black and the White

you are the red lips I kiss at night

I am the fourpost bed

on which you rest your weary head

I am the lion

and you are my den

How I am dying

to hear you sing again...