Key Stroke

My piano said, “How come you haven’t played me recently?”

I said, “My fingers haven’t felt nimble enough?”

My piano said, “I don’t care if you play me sloppily. I like the touch of your fingers.”

I sat at the piano and played some kind of crazy semblance of notes that blended into a hazy melody. The whole time my piano smiled like the sun, and things felt okay again.