The Piano

Its a lazy sunday evening,
and as the dust of sunday lunch eases,
I see you standing in the corner
Beckoning to me to lift the lid
and gaze down at your ivory teeth.
Tempting me to break the silence
Of afternoon papers and empty cups of tea,
afternoon slumbers and Sunday supplements
caccoon the air and guard it from the outside
So as I lift the keyboard lid
I glance sideways at the people in the room
Do I break their peace with chords?
I feel my finger tips brushing the polished keys
In anticipation of breaking this room of its shroud
and bringing in music.
An eagerness over takes me and I play the first thing that comes into my head
Waltzing notes cascade around the room
and lay in the ears of those in afternoon slumber
I have broken the Sunday afternoon
with the piano, my accomplice