I asked my sister for the topic of this poem,
She answered "Piano".
So, one, two, three,
Here I go.

Delightful is it to play those keys.
(In my sister's opinion at least.)
It's really more amusing,
Than hunting the pantry for hidden yeast.

It can get to be so fun,
That you'll sit there so long,
That you'll find yourself,
Humming over and over, only one song.

You'll carry the marks of your
Beloved piano bench.
To get them off,
You might need a wrench.

My sister loves piano,
Oh, she does love it so.
(But in my opinion, it's better
To plant potatoes in a row.)