Cuddly Piano

A piano is not gray

for a reason.

The notes are either right,

or they are wrong.

Black and white

are the only two places

my fingers can wander to.

For some, that is too few.

But to me,

the fewer the options, the better.

And with twelve years

of both wrong and right behind me,

My wandering appendages don’t often stray

very far from perfection.

Christmas carols, duets, pop songs, jazz,

movie music, and even Bach don’t phase me

(well, Bach might).

Instead, they lift a smile to my face,

hug me,

and send shivers down my spine.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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