It waits there. Sitting. 

It has not moved in such a long time. 
A thick layer of dust over it. Staying still.

It is not a hard task for it. Perhaps waiting like this is just second nature. 

If it has any nature. 

Set like that. Sitting. 
Waiting.

It even looks comfortable (as much as it can be).
A leg crossed over the other. 

When was its last performance? It does not seem to care. It does not seem to do anything at all. 
And it keeps waiting. 

And waiting is an action. It is acting.

Perhaps that wait is in itself also being used. Being set, being sat. Posed like that. 
Whoever set it like that wanted it so. So it is in a way, being used. 

Staying so still, someone else wished it that way.
So why should it care about that? It is performing, in a way.

So long that it has been forgotten, waiting for someone
or something
else to enjoy it. To make it be. 
What does it want beyond that? Maybe its only want is to be wanted. To be used.
To be enjoyed.

And it has been enjoyed. It has played. It has performed.
How long has it been since?

Minutes?
Hours?
Days?
Years?

Makes no difference to it, does it. 
While there is dust, it is still colorful.

It will wait. 

Can it even want anything? 
Or is it just a mirror for others to project themselves, their wants, their desires into?
Maybe it wants to be wanted. 

Others will make it live again, surely.
Just have to wait.