Sometime I wish I had a piano
In a long list of wishes may be another addition.
Or if my pen was a piano key
On lazy afternoons of summer
When touched softly
Its music would break the silence of this room
The languid humming of air conditioner
Would mellow in its sweet sound
The colors esoteric in nature
Ascending through air reaching to empyrean
Would shower upon me in sweet paen.
I do laugh at the idea though
That sounds so perfect in phantasmagoria.
The trill coming out of the keys
Would probably be smudged and muddled
As the writing coming out of this pen
Backed only with a dull desire or inclination to write.
When would I realize that the pen or the piano key
Both are substitute for my inability
To sit quite and enjoy the song of stillness

Savita Tyagi