Piano
A grand piano is standing in my living room.
She is my grandmother.
She is a skeleton with no keys left.
In her youth, everything touched her:
fingers, breezes, petals.
She responded with cheerful music.
When she became Mother,
She started dropping her keys, one by one.
These are my mother, uncles, aunts
and then me.
I miss the days when I was part of you.
I used to transmit my emotions through my bone,
and you transformed it to music.
I still cannot sing like you,
disjointed like that.
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