Music is dancing, swaying on the page.
Sadly however, you stay the same age.
With my mind rumbling into two,
I will always find a way to miss you.
The piano plays a soft tune,
Then suddenly everything went quiet,
On that Monday afternoon.
It didn’t seem like much at the time-
But surely, with you,
The music swayed to a different rhyme.
It isn’t all about how I miss you so,
But I cannot comprehend why the world wanted you to go.
With hours put in to making you mine,
It is sad to say this would be our last time.
One more time together, then the rest apart,
The piano now rests still,
Like a dying work of art.
