Ivory and Ebony

         Ivory and Ebony

         The best of course, they'd have no less.
         A procelain doll, a bird in
         The proverbial gilded cage
         That sat poised on the bench, back straight
         For hours with no company
         But ivory and ebony,
         Watching children out the window
         With small, envious, stormy eyes

         The painted plastic prizes sat
         At attention on the sound box
         Where all could applaud their silence
         While tapping their witless feet to
         Chopin's Waltz in C sharp minor.
         But the doll had not the slightest
         Love for what had been accomplished,
         Only that which was sacrificed.












Comments and Advice are appreciated, seeing as poetry is quite new to me. Thanks!