I know that expressing my gratitude
is quite overdue.
You’ve been with me
before I knew what it means to live
completely and utterly passionately—
No.
You taught me.
You’ve been patient all this time
when I’d smashed your bright, shiny keys in frustration
when I’d played too hard and ripped the delicate plastic coverings
of your bright, shiny keys.
You’ve felt warm teardrops
drip onto the surface of your bright, shiny keys.
Even so,
as my fingers prance left and right
you give soul to the universe
and tell untellable stories.
When your voice is heard,
the mind explodes with a myriad of colors.
I know that I’ve worn you out all these years,
and I have to say your bench is quite uncomfortable
but I will not trade the bright, shiny keys
that taught me what it means to live.