My Piano

Once upon a time, I asked for help-

Something I felt I could not do on my own-

To move this thing made of iron and wood and strings and glaze-

I asked for help-

I waited and waited, soon realizing I would be alone-

I looked up the many stairs, the turns and thought, how?

I began and moved it slowly, inch by inch toward the stairs-

I lifted one, then two-

I rested and then again, three then four.

My lungs pulled at the air, my muscles cried and tried and yet I continued-

I had no choice, I could not stop, for if I did, she would drop.

Then again, five then six, on and again, one flight up-

Then two flights-

Then three flights-

And when at the top-

I rested-

And moved her slowly into place-

I sat on the ground and gazed, at this thing made of iron and strings-

My reflection in her glaze-

With my lungs restored, my heart calm and waiting-

I rose, approached her gently, sat before her black and white-

Caressed her smooth skin and she spoke to me, sang to me, loved me-

I loved her and while I found myself carrying her that day-

I find that now, to this day, she carries me with her always-