rummaging the trading advertisements the Eldest of the Three found this poignant image of a
piano poised on a pallet positioned in a paddock, waiting for a clearing sale (no doubt keeping its little ivory fingers crossed the drought wasn't going to break on it anytime soon). you have to wonder how many songs are stored in the memory of the wood. was it played for weddings, dances, christmas past, funerals. who flirted over that keyboard, who picked out the departed's favourite tune through misted eyes with a lump in their throat. and how many cats have marched up and down the black-and-white path enjoying the audience reaction. here's hoping this piano finds a loving home out of the sun and wind where songs can be sung and just one more dance be played at the end of some enchanted evening.
