The man was old
Old and tired and sad
His skin cratered with sorrow

But something else within
Every now and then shines
As a soft twinkle in his eyes


His hands were spidery and shook
But show a vivid spark of memory
As they move across the ancient ivory keys

He plays the music
A soft, familiar melody
Which takes him back, takes him home


To when the man was young
Young and lively and happy
His eyes danced with deep love

Love for the music his fingers played
And love for the girl who placed a kiss on his cheek
Love for his wife

But he had grown old
And she had long since passed on
And he was alone, but the music of his piano


And he still loved her
And how his gossamer touch
Could make the keys sing


But their song was different now
Hollow and tired and sad
Their sound ridden with sorrow




And he knew what he had to do
The poor old man
With the sound of beauty at his fingers


The old man knew what he had to do
He had to leave this empty world
For it no longer held a thing for him

For the old man was alone
And he had grown old
And he missed his wife terribly

And how he hurt
The gaping hole in his heart
That even the spark of his piano could not fill

And so now he is buried
Old and asleep and buried
In a deep slumber below the dirt

A single flower on his grave
For the old man had outlived his friends
Old and alone he sleeps

And now the piano gathers dust
Old and neglected and sad
With the longing for the old man who caressed its keys and made it sing