It started as nothing but a jumble of
white and black.
Just a big thing in the middle of our
living room that my mother would
make beautiful sounds on.
Soon I was on the bench next to her,
my hands on hers
helping her make the music that
used to fill my days and nights
with peace.
I remember when it was her sitting next
to me, watching my hands create
something beautiful.
I’d never seen her with more pride
than she had in that moment.
Before long I sat at the piano
with a beautiful girl,
watching the familiar wonder form
on her face while I played.
I let the music bleed from my fingers
as that same beautiful girl walked into
the house, oblivious to the ring in
my pocket.
I was not playing the piano
on that day full of romance and hope.
Instead, a stranger was,
I was waiting at the altar
for a glimpse of my love coming
down the aisle.
When we got to the house by the lake,
she asked me to play for her.
I had barely finished the song
When we became one for
the first time.
I hadn't touched my piano in months,
Overwhelmed by the perils of marriage;
Bills, work, arguments, more bills.
As miserable as things were,
Our love never faded.
It grew stronger with every
Uncertain moment.
When that uncertainty became stability
And the hard work paid off
She surprised me with my own piano,
Atop it sat a bright pink bow.
Next to it stood my wife,
Her hand resting on her stomach.
I composed a new piece for the
First time in three years with a
Small bundle the same color as
The bow sitting in my arms.
That was the last time I touched the keys.
When I heard about the accident the
Next day, I closed the doors
Leading to the living room and
Sat in the nursery, holding my tiny
Daughter tightly to my chest.
My brother and I moved
The piano into the attic while my
Mother went through her things.
The piano stayed in the attic,
Even when we moved.
The only thing left of it a
Bright pink bow hanging
In my daughter's bedroom.
Tried to write from a male POV.
