Soft Piano Tune

The paleness against the white
reminds me of the empty room I’m in.
I knew her once,
the girl sitting here.
Years ago, playing for the walls.
She was unsure,
stilted, awkward, and playing pretend,
in memoriam.
For who she had lost, what she had lost,
So many lives lost in the scales
and foolishly, hopefully,
that the sound would breach the closed door.
To be there, you would have to be,
to see the wishes made against the flat keys,
and dreams lost on the sharp.
But the tune never changes,
just the age of the hands.
Unexplainable,
yet understandable,
when the sound stops…
the song goes on.

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