Musically Ungifted

And your relationship with music?
The analyst enquired.
Well I loved a piano once,
At least I liked him being near.

He promised me a future where,
With small movements of my fingers
Together we would one day
Breathe life into the air.

Analyst: I'd like to stop you at this point.
Did you notice you said 'he'?
Did I? You did! I did? Uh huh.
I suppose he was a he.

Standing to attention,
In the corner of the room,
Always ready with his keys,
Should I dare touch.

Analyst: Should you dare?
Yes, you see, my mother...
**Analyst's expression sharpens**
My mother insisted.

She told me to be brave,
Fingers to the ivory,
Pedalling with both feet,
Hammering strings, scales, notes, keys, screams...

After two minutes
Of discord and sustain
The romance died.

And then?

She made me do it all again.

Again.

Again.

Ten Years.

Then I left.

On visits back I'd see him there
Reliable but muted,
I still loved his promise,
His elegant, carved face.

But now the empty air and
My mother's disappointment.
It broke her heart.
Her radio no great compromise.

**Deep breath**

One day I walked in -
A shadow on the wallpaper,
Small dents in our wooden floor.
My firm, upright friend had vanished.
I wept.

Analyst: OK, Your hour is up.
I'll see you next week?