Black and White Keys

A liquorice, black grandeur dominating the atmosphere.

A glow-worm illuminates it to a white glow.

Shiny, sleek to the touch.

The reflection of the room seen through a different dimension.

Polished to perfection.

Each note like a colour of the rainbow,

Inventing new shades with every chord, creating new paintings with every tune.

Like an adventure through a meadow,

picking the right flowers for a bouquet suited to each occasion.

Seven years of practicing wearies it not.

Like a grandfather,

it sits patiently, silently taking in a child's anger,

smiling knowingly at their innocent protests.

I close my eyes and my fingers run with muscle memory.

My piano knows my piece better than me. 

But I do my piano no justice,

with my constant mistakes of simple melodies,

when pieces as great as Mozart's or Pachabel's should be hitting its keys.

But still, 

It hasn't run away and still smiles silently as I play today.