The piano is my solace,

As it is my epitaph.

It has keys of pure white,

As it has keys of pitch black.

It can make beautiful harmonies,

As it can make discordant clashes.

It can cause tears of joy,

As it can cause tears of sorrow.

It can lull one asleep,

As it can jolt one awake.

It can create lovely chords,

As it can create harsh cacophony.

It rings a pure note,

As it rings one out of tune.

It has notes that are high,

As it has notes that are low.

It reminds me of Mother's teachings,

As it reminds me of her death.