WAITING CAN BE PURE AGONY

The house sits empty.

Spirits walk the hallways,

waiting for life and sounds

to enter the house again.

Waiting can be pure agony

when you have nowhere else to go.

PLAY ME

The house sits empty.

Deserted for years.

Dust its sole visitor.

The grand piano waits for a voice.

Someone to play its keys.

One last song.

Before it’s too late.

Before its beauty is lost.

Before it joins the dust.

Play me.