The Silence of Music Rooms

The same window sticks.

I push hard and sometimes it gives,

lets in a distant sea,

a child’s laughter in the waves.

Mostly I can’t decipher

the songs on the locked baby grand.

Death has stolen their keys.

The metronome still works.

I slide its weight to the end,

watch it pole-vault back and fore

across the chasm between each tock.

The sea rolls closer, the child laughs

louder. Mother, father and sister

sing to him from the shore.