D Minor

My tears fall onto the keys
of the old piano-
and my fingers slip away
leaving dead notes
and frigid rhythmÂ
in the air
falling to the ground
to crawl right back upÂ
and nest in my psyche-
to swallow up all that is good
and replace my sense of something
with hollow organ music;
an ironic reminderÂ
of the organs i fail to use
and fail to feel.Â
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.Â
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