• Tonight I play the piano,
    in the silence of an old abandon room,
    the paint is peeling,
    the smell of decay, and rotten wood hovers silently like a forgotten ghost.
    I sit down,
    the torn leather seat groans under my weight breaking the hard silence like a scream in the night.
    I stare at the ancient piano.
    It was as old as the room it stood in, the keys yellowed like an old dolls face.
    I play a note: Hello, I play a chord: Good evening, I play a phrase: Welcome to my humble home.
    Soon the piano is singing, melting the dust from the walls and the loneliness from my mind.
    The sound of milk and honey reverberates.
    Sending me into a vertigo of sound.
    People are dancing, smiling, laughing; the room is alive with the sound of nostalgia.
    People pat me on the back as I play.
    The piano and I share a dream of loneliness.
    For the piano is king now, as it sings in the darkness,
    sending surreal sounds, so it may conquer the kingdom of silence,
    but sadly the reign of my king is coming to an end,
    Crescendo to the last chord, double forte, fermata,
    decrescendo into the sad silence of an old abandoned room.