A HAUNTING MELODY

The old piano rings with a slightly flat tone that comes from the thousands of strokes
From the hundreds of hands over the passing years.
The old wood bends slightly, bearing the weight of the souls of innumerable musicians
Who have born their feelings onto the compliant oak frame.
The old pedals squeak their complaints against yet another foot come to step on them
And force them to blend the right hand into the left.
The young hands pick out a melody even more ancient than the old oak piano
And the room fills with both the voices of the living and the echoes of the dead.
Those who sang with it once and sing with it again.
Held together only by the song,
The bodies and the ghosts,
Unconscious each other,
Join together in the only magic
Humankind has even been able to scratch the surface of:
Music.