I’ve viewed the faces of lonely owners
From the comfort of my keys
I’ve caught sweat and teardrops
In the late evening-
A glass of scotch on my soundboard
I’ve felt the caress of someone who loves a piano
In place of a woman
And with trembling hands,
You tell me what you used to tell her
With melancholy chords and irate crescendos
Your hands slowly retreat-
As hot tears fall once again