It was a little piano we bought,
but a piano, nonetheless.
Vertical and rose wood veneer,
it stood, often unused,
its back against the shaded wall.
Guests might sometimes
bash the keys in simulation
of play and then huff
off to the bookshelves
neatly stacked with serious
stuff mostly, by them, unread.
In the end, we gave it away
to the senior citizens
and the books were dumped
on a council clean-up day.
White linen settees soon stain.
I am left making subtle
distinctions between this,
that and the other,
to an empty room.