The only one who used to play it

The piano sits solemnly, awkwardly, silently
pondering perhaps its continued presence
in a house where the only one
who used to play it does not touch it anymore,
at all.

Silenced,
yet it still plays volumes of melancholic tunes
that remind the only one who used to play it
that it once was a source of joy, of sadness, of everything!
It was youth, it was promise, it was solace!

Now reduced to a furniture piece,
it is an elephant in the room.
Shunned and unappreciated and nothing but a symbol
of what used to be
what the only one who used to play it
loved and let go.