D Minor

My tears fall onto the keys

of the old piano-

and my fingers slip away

leaving dead notes

and frigid rhythm 

in the air

falling to the ground

to crawl right back up 

and nest in my psyche-

to swallow up all that is good

and replace my sense of something

with hollow organ music;

an ironic reminder 

of the organs i fail to use

and fail to feel. 

And so Dorothy skipped

along the road

to enchanting piano melodies

and i trailed behind

as both tinman and scarecrow

because i cannot think of the right keys

and my heart's not in the music

and so maybe it's better off i melted

to the tune of d minor.