Living Organs

As dusty brown as the loft
It rests in, its rusty crown
Soft with deflected sun
It’s keys ivory yet not so white
As to shine in the battened down
Window’s muted light
Such pipes as once breathed
Majestic airs, silver-gleam
In proud ranks still. Place
An ageing organ wheresoever
You will, it is part of a body, a
Living thing. Climb the stairs,
Open the doors, walk the floors,
Hear it sing.

Image may contain: indoor