A Silent Grand Piano

Octaves do not
speak anymore

white notes smirk
in the quiet,

black keys
yearn for a
feathery warm.

A lone spider
spends
day and night,
laying traps

Troubled whirr
of a deceived bee
remind felt hammers
of faded tunes

Silence has dusted
melody

Dreary beams
seeping through skylight
seek for

vanished days.