'The Poor Girl & The Piano'

Red roses stand beside grandfather's ashes
Atop the mantel place,
Garden stares through webbed window
Crisp, dew speckled in the widow's gaze.
Full of heartbreak the white child glides
To the expired man's twinkling piano,
Dark as his eyes.
She sets the well practised scene
for another day of devotion.

Punching the keys
Knocking the hell out of the instrument.

Through the chaos
She sees only emptiness
The sort which lingers,
Blackens the heart.
But although she plays his second love
(his escape, his music)
She hears nothing
And feels like the widow should.

25th February 2004