I know I’m not supposed to dream for you, but still
it's a cruel melody when you play Christmas carols on the piano
as our children sit by your feet
and giggle
and sometimes dart forward to push down a pedal
only to scurry off and giggle some more
and you just sit there, shaking your head
a smile on your face
and you keep playing those goddamn
Christmas carols
with such technical precision
and I stay in the kitchen with
a plate of cooling gingerbread cookies in front of me
and try not to cry
because you could have been
so much more
than a living room performer for
an inattentive audience
your fingers were built to fly across
piano keys, not tying steel bars
for reinforcement
again and again
and it's a cruel melody
when you sit there, such a placid expression on your face
as you break my heart
again and again
with every beautiful note