Perhaps in a better place
My pianos sit untouched
And the neighbours get to live
In peace without the hundreds
Of song intros that never
Progress to the chorus
Floating upstairs from the patio.
A better place where there'd
Be one less in the class,
Maybe an empty chair or
Perhaps a different
Arrangement altogether;
25, a perfect square
Without one extra to care for.
In a better place
There'd be more space
In the studio for the other
17-ish dancers, minus one
That always travelled too
Much, took up too much room
Physically and mentally.
In a better place these
Poor trees
Would have been put to
Better use, better than
Too many words too many
Don't want on paper;
Too many words in air
Exhaled from a mouth
That moves too much.
In a better place there'd be
More oxygen, more food,
More water.
In a better place
My parents only have one daughter.