The silence, it envelopes me, yet I am unafraid.
Voices, they surround me, but I am drifting away.
I want to go back, to what is familiar to me.
I feel like a stranger here, a thief of time.
Trapped among people I know but can’t make sense of.
The loneliness; in the day – blissful, in the night – a curse.
I don’t know what to do but I want to find you.
And be safely wrapped in your arms.
I am counting down the days as they go.
Some slow, some not so.
Drifting and stumbling, slowly breaking down.
Stained sheets of music
A familiar melody echoes
Fingertips slide through yellowed keys.
In a room alone, complete solitude
Sits the pianist and his best friend,
His precious gift, the priceless Steinway.
Moonlight trickles through the tiny window
Attracted to the piano in it’s splendor,
casting a lonely silhouette.
Fiery emotions inspire the music,
but in the silence of the night
not a soul hears the tunes.
A gift goes unappreciated,
a musician alone with his faithful companion,
tears rolling onto brilliant compositions,
saddened by his unknown fame.