Clack, Clack!

Sitting upon a shelf
in a quiet basement
slowly gathering dust
and cobwebs, you rest.

Like an old house
awaiting the rumors
of haunting that come
with age, loneliness
and neglect you wait.

Once lively and vibrant
the stories of life, love,
and all that was lively
and good came from keys.
Now you are mute.

Like the leading lady
in a novel you could create,
it would take but a soft
caress to awaken you.
For a touch you hunger.