The Keeper of the Keys

The acrid stench of vinegar,

The flick'ring of the lights.

The looks as I stride through the door.

Many wonder whatever for.

The stale stench of fish and chips

A weekly occurrence.

And yet I still, just cannot quite

Ignore the flashings of the light

As I climb up the flight of stairs

And, pushing through door,

The pleasant music greets my ears

The highlight of my week, it nears.

The second door on the left side

The door that doesn't shut

Properly. There, waiting, I see,

The keeper of many a key.

I enter and sit on the stool

"Play F major," she says.

And as my hands begin to play

I feel as if the sun in May

Is shining down upon my back

The bird's song fills my ears

And, drunk with pleasure, all too fast

The lesson's done, it didn't last.

Like all good things, the music ends

"Until next week!" She smiles.

One week till foul odours again

Precedes melodies the keep me sane.