Saturday, August 2, 2008

Urge To Play

The keys may as well be white due to dust

I haven't touched a key since last August

Somewhere inside I've lost the urge to play

I've been placating anger molding clay

As each day passes a fresh rose shows up

It's almost too sweet, like maple syrup

I wake up each morning thinking I'll try

But as I approach I just start to cry

I remember when I became your bride

It's now almost a year since you have died

The piano was your sweet gift to me

So I could compose my new symphony

Now it sits in the corner all alone

While I feel as if my heart turned to stone

I once taught children the joy of music

The thrill they seemed to get was quite classic

The roses are from the students I learned

They're missing the music and are concerned

The anger is slowly fading away

I just need to get back my urge to play


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