The Silent Keys

In dust-cloaked corners, shadows creep, Where echoes of old melodies sleep. Wooden frame, worn yet proud, Once sang its hymns so clear, so loud.

The ivory sighs, the ebony waits, Yearning hands that hesitate. Once a voice, now hushed and still, A heart unplayed, a soul unfilled.

The moonlight lingers on its form, Tracing sorrow, soft and warm. Fingers once danced, wild and free, Now silence hums its elegy.

Yet should the weight of longing fade, Should hands return, unafraid, It will stir, it will cry, A song reborn beneath the sky.