To watch piano keys tune
Is like righting a broken bone:
Process somewhat crude
But still very much a need.
The maestro looms like a wolf,
Making every note weep
Though to the intensity he is aloof,
As if in a dream—
Or perhaps a nightmare;
He hears the shrieks and jumps,
Perhaps exaggerated by the glares
Of looming ghouls—necromancy.
The notes holding as if a pathos
Back to the world of the living.
Yes, I know he played the harp. But I've always associated pianos with manic-demon Beethoven-like creatures.