The richness of this piano is like the richness of my life
It tells much of my journey, of my love and loss and strife
The tone is ever-changing and the notes sing soft and loud
From tune to chord to mayhem my creation makes me proud

Its presence is my lodestone, it finds a space once lost
The guilt of having so much, the guilt of all that cost
Is bourn by touching white keys, is torn by touching black
The cause of all creation is giving something back

And this it does in spade-loads and this it does each day
By bringing back my fingers, my mind, my hands to play
Each note a new discovery, each note a good old friend
The music in this piano will never seem to end

An old man and a piano, that’s what I have become
I give thanks that I am still here, writing, rhyming some
Words to go with music, tunes to go with rhymes
The playing of this piano has to be the best of times

So now my piano stands there, it’s waiting for my touch
To bring it back to life now, its feeling tone so much
A way to find my soul now, a way to see my heart
If all else goes away now, please leave me with my art.