This poem has it all.... Pianos, music, hauntings, and mystery. And a spooky GREEN key It was a birthday present for an aspiring piano player.

This poem has two titles.... The Piano With 89 Keys             or The Symphony in R

It happened in the ‘80’s in a sleepy river town, On the north shore of the Ohio; up on high ground. I’d walk ‘long the sidewalk past the buildings, weeds and shore, All the way up to that Old Piano Store.   It was just an old store with grime on the glass. And a sidewalk peppered with islands of grass. Peering inside one could hardly see a floor, And a sign read:  “CLOSED” hanging on the door.   I’d walk to the store of a day, and oft times at night. Once I saw the door open and inside shone a light. I found myself running up the walk And ventured inside for a look-‘round and talk.   There were pianos and pianos, a dozen there must, They were each brand new, under a blanket of dust. There was a Baldwin, Steinway, and a Fazioli or two, And off in the corner was a Forster and a Stu. A Stu?  A who? A piano called Stu?   I never knew of a piano named Stu!   I had to see the Stu – It was behind a thin veil. Bellowed a voice from behind ……..  “That Stu’s One of Two, and it’s NOT for sale!”   I spun ‘round to see a grizzled old man; Long piano fingers; rings on each hand. He asked me, tho’ he already knew, “So you want to hear the Stu?” And boldly I said, “I certainly do!” He brushed off the dust with a scraggly right hand, Threw back the cover, and sat on the stand. “It looks kind of odd” I said, stifling a cry, But with dust and darkness I didn’t know why. “Just count the keys” said he; a twinkle in his eye. There were 36 black keys and 52 white, but odd as it might seem, There was an 89th key and that key was green! It was ‘bout in the center --- or as close as close could be, A little to the left or right of Mid  C.   I reached for the keyboard, but he brushed me away Sayin’ -- “This piano’s mine, it’s all that I play!” His fingers did glide ‘cross the ebon and white. To this day I can hear it ‘most every night. But for all that music he’d not played that green note. And on that 89th key I started to dote.   He stopped all at once, and announced he was done, But I had a question, and it was only just one... “You missed the green key, you never played it once.” He smiled and laughed like I was some sort of dunce.   He grinned and laughed, “YOU play the green key, but it’s different by far, It’s no ordinary key;                that note’s an R!”   An R? There’s no R note, It just can’t be! So, with trembling hand I gently pressed the green key.   It didn’t sound like a C, B or G  ---- It was more like the sound of a falling-down tree, ‘Long with crashing waves of an angry sea, And the steady drone of a spring honey bee.  There were strings and brass while a flute led the way, And all sorts of sounds I’ve not heard since that day.   It was a complete symphony with only one note. A note I’d never heard thus far ---                  that 89th key, the green note of R!   He sat back down and began to play, Each chord was an R- chord; ------  the room began to sway… Was it an hour; or was it all day?  I lost track of time, it’s too hard to say. I forgot to breathe – almost turned blue – That Symphony in R,                         played on the Stu,  Stu the piano, Stu, One of Two.       * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The very next day I went back to the store, The door was still open; I went in to hear more. But it was empty!!  Just the landlord sweeping the floor. When I asked about pianos he confirmed my fears, The store had been vacant for over 20 years.   He wasn’t able to tell me much more, Still he told me all he knew. Couldn’t recall much ‘bout the man or the store, But his first name might have been Stu.   So, you can guess what I’ve done, and you’d do it too, I’ve searched the world over for the Stu, Two of Two. It’s taken me near and taken me far, But I must find the last Stu, and play the Symphony in R.