Rest your playful,
soulful
weight
on me
Be careful not to expand
so widely as support of your backbone
is not available
Dare not treat my disfigurement
as a hindrance to your talent
For without me
you will lack the honor of joining
the tickled ivories
that speak when you rest your playful,
soulful
weight
on them
Close your eyes and sway
from side to side
Knowing all along that you can glide
on me to the left and to the right
Almost as if I am tickling you
with all my might
The Park and Press are relatives of mine
Either brings ease to the vulnerable spine
How kind without a fine
Yet who walks the finer line?
Never to be exposed in such
an archaic fashion
the melodies played and created on me
sometime deserve a tongue lashing
Though in a concert hall
It shows me grander
than them all
Safer to not add wheels
Shame to anyone wanting me in the
Court of Appeals
Surely their names do change
to engulf the willing
The composer’s mind derange
and takes the artist’s girth a milling