D# (Dust Sharp)

If you found a piano alone in the dust of dark clouds

whose keys still could strike a chord despite their sorry state,

whose notes, though off, could craft a singsong tune,

would you take a mo0ment to press your fingers on it

and give it a chance to weep a song once more?

 

Or would you pass it by and call it broken

without giving it a chance to hammer its lonely strings

and play for you a song such that only time-tempered strings

could play?

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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