In Black and White

The crystalline plink, its thunderous rumble
This angelic instrument makes one and all chant
Three canaries chirping, carolling: “The Man from Ironbark”.

My fingers swimming with the penguins
Yin and Yang
Bride and groom
Ivory, ebony

Mary’s angels hymn when each string is struck
It speaks a chime, a marvellous tune.

My finger print is all it knows,
canopied corner, seat for one,
one maple-wood platform, occupied by tea-stained pages,
notes and crotchets dancing and prancing off the page.
As grand as a king’s royal seat,
put simply: my throne.