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.