Eliana of the dusky locks,
Dressed in polka-dotted frock,
Lay on the floor,
On the dusty carpet
And was admonished for good measure,
Sent to the corner
To stand immobile.
There were repeated transgressions
And the girl paid with the absence
Of all the scenic views behind her.
But, when she pulled up the bench
And sat on it,
Running her fingers over the keys,
Playing an arpeggio with nonchalance,
The music was so divine
That one forgot the floor and the carpet.