The Wandering Poet Society

The Player

Soft, melodious notes played with sweet delicacy….the music of the piano lives on. He plays non-stop through the twilight.
A haunting chill envelops the dimly lit room of which the player is placed. Candles burn for another day while the notes sing of the past.
His fingers are bruised up from excessive playing and his grip of the keys are weak because they are soaked with tears.
The music stops.
He thinks of – her.
A slight smile of the sublime tears across his face.
The music begins to play and once again the smile is gone.