Concerto Poem by Daniel Y.

A blue ribbon won, I say.
For a child who did not.
The broken piano rang
with special elegance
the strings which tugged my chest
and jerked my core.
Ribbons of my soul flew langsam.
The precious bit of lovely effort.
The little fingers on ivory planks,
which danced about a field of mines.

Then,
a foul note hit,
a wretched misstep.
Ending his performance.
Ending his passionate solo.
The woven piece unraveled
much faster than it was sewn.
And left pieces strewn on the glossy floor.
The blaring silence brought tears.
But you won the lot, I say
unto deaf ears.