The mahogany piece was a hand-me-down
She sat herself on the bench like her mother and grandmother did before her
And ran her fingers along the keys as if they were a playground

At age seven, with feet dangling off the ground, she had the appearance of an amateur
But as soon as she began “Good Boys Do Fine Always”
In her mind she played as a respected connoisseur

It was her only companion as she tapped melodies tenderly for days and days
And as they progressed, so did she
From Hanon to Bach to Debussy with passing birthdays

It went with her from sea to sea
Traveling from Colorado to California and then Florida almost as if on repeat
But with every note reality would cease to be

She created a depth of sound with the notes that laid on the spreadsheet
With the goal of connecting an invisible chord to the nearest listener
Matching a range in tone from the upbeat to the bittersweet

Now staring at the piano that has followed her to adulthood she feels something similar
She has carried these songs of the dead to the depths of the unknown
And wonders if adulthood has changed the big picture

Finally she glances at the instrument that she has always known
And leaves it awaiting its next storyteller to continue their legacies
As she she steps eagerly into the future ready to create her own