The piano sits in the corner
silent, stained with music from years past –
each key frozen in timelessness
melancholy, veiled from the purpose it served.
And a shadow hangs tight to the wires
muffling their melody,
as I strain to hear the notes, faintly echoing
only to frustrate myself when forgetting the lyrics.
Years pass, and I still see you
sitting at the piano, bringing life to the room
filling the air with your scent – an audience of one
me, until you fade again from the room.