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An Eighth Wonder

Touched today and every morrow
a bringer of joy and sorrow
Eighty-eight keys have I, not to dangle from a chain
but to accompany an old and new refrain. Man's ten fingers on my keyboard placed
approach softly, often ascending
to a feverish pace, emitting a tremble, perhaps. Privacy invaded by dancing digits
playing around with my treasured bastion of
warmth; hammers of felt, wrapped. Again and again ten little piggies
strike at my very core,
Icy strings of steel, melt magically by tools, pounding.
'Neath me, poised, peds await the command
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Yeou-cheng Ma 21 June 2006
greetings Sylvia... how are you doing?
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6/24/2021 9:07:13 PM #