Driving in search for breakfast, somewhere in the White Mountains region,
an abandoned piano called us from the side of the road.
A quick U-turn and we heeded its call, stopping at a deserted shop-plaza and lot.
It was a beautiful thing, still, even with its guts laid bare for the mountain winds and rains.
Hesitantly we pressed a key and were startled by a loud and clear note that pierced the morning silence
and sailed across the empty lot, onto the road, onward.
A few more notes and we were off on our way, but we left our heart there
as a quiet companion to the unheard music of the piano’s soul.