Doctor Grandma

I remember the day you came to us,
Excitement intense and real,
I was the one who mastered you,
who played for hours on end.
Four years learning to play your keys,
to lift my fingers,
prance them along,
to play with emotion and haunting beauty,
There were times I would stop, sit in silence,
cry, tears rolling down my cheeks,
Frustrated, not moving,
staring at the keys,
until my Father called to me,
“Later, take a break,” he said,
“Come back to play it later.”
and I thought, one day, you might be mine,
to play in joy and solitude.
When my mother passed, there was no way
to bring you to the South,
so you went to our oldest daughter’s house
and lived there for awhile,
Until one day, she gave you away, to another family,
their daughter wanted to learn to play,
and so, you went to them.
There was too much symbolism
to bring you here, even if we wanted,
the meaning of you took on other hues,
of shadows and of sorrow,
so once again, I now release
the pain of former years,
Detach myself from physical things,
thick with meaning and memory,
You travel on, away from me
to the home of a total stranger,
while I am left, as a little girl,
with memories that haunt, and linger.
cfblack, 2-7-14, revised 2-19-25