Ode to the keyboard
There they stay, lying down in row.
In black boxes, they whitely show.
They wait for touch
And dream the day to catch
Beautiful hands to bring them hope.
No desire, no greed,
They are there with endless patience,
Waiting, for some to come
Who would make them sing.
After the times of waiting
When they meet the hand,
Finally do they move and stand,
Until they reach the end.
The ones they wait
Are not here yet,
Though never stop.
Lay them down for start!
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