The keys and strings and knobs and bows taunt
Horse string, shining metal, ivory, silver, and gold—-
Glimmering,
Beckoning
Inclining me to use them
To take them, stroke them, slam them
Abuse them
Worship them
And in my mind
Their chords with flats and sharps and crescendoes and pianissimos blend
Dissonance and perfect harmony battle ferociously
Or perhaps they are dancing?