Siestas In The Afternoon Poem by Margaret Alice Second

In the music room listening to mother playing her
favourite pieces on the piano, reflecting on all the
things I have learned: not to lean on the driver of
a motorbike, I must keep my own head and helmet
up; singing gets on everyone's nerves - there goes
my dream of singing on street till my voice is strong

And most important of all, people are impatient and
irritated when they get up from a siesta; mother is
very temperamental when you do something wrong
or fail to hear her imperial command, and the most
endearing thing is dad's whole existence centres on
keeping the piano safe by cooling the music room

The piano's strings are affected by the excessive heat,
he wedges in boards to keep the dogs out while leaving
the room open at night so that mom can play a piano
that is in tune; and as I tried to chase a sparrow stuck
in the music room flying up against the ceiling instead
of keeping low to leave through the door

I was hit on the head by a piece of wood and felt that
physical hurt is not as painful as criticism and emotional
wounds inflicted by people having siestas in the afternoon…