The instrument let out it’s awful sound.

No matter the time given to practice,

there were but two options:

rhythm OR notes that didn’t screech.

Each screech left Bennet’s ears on edge.

 

The intercom crackled.

“Please have your pupil come to the office

Prepared to leave for the day.”

Another screech and then

The poor, screeched-out accordion was boxed.

 

And that was the last it saw daylight.

There was screeching and boxes,

But not about music.

Daddy had died.