I have been in this dark box for so long that dust covers every surface of me – so far away from you – and yet, unknowingly, so close.

There we sat, silently decaying. Lonely and untouched.

I don’t think either of us realised that the last time was going to be the last time. It went unnoticed, unacknowledged. No sense of ceremony or occasion. It just happened, it just stopped. There was no great reason for it – no battles or angry accusations – just an ebbing away. Somehow the magic had gone. Was it all too much effort? Were there simply better things to do? We became the neglected parties. The unintentional victims of disregard.

And then the lid was lifted.

Light dazzled me before my focus fell onto you, old friend.

The thought that we may be reunited again, that I may sit with you, recline gently against you & that we may make such music once more thrilled and trilled me.

But it wasn’t to be.

The moment a possible harmonious return was sharp and discordant for this wasn’t to be our next great overture, the finale was over, the audience have left, the music silenced.

And it would remain that way.

The gentle rustle of the black, plastic bag was the opening bars of the next symphony… I, and the other scores were clumsily dropped inside, the top was tied, in the dark once more.

But it was worse for you.

As I laid there all I heard was the harsh, percussive crash that splintered your melodies, battered your chords, silenced your voice.

And all those lessons, the practicing of scales, the clumsy renditions of beautiful sonatas… we tolerated every wrong note… it was part of the learning process. But now there are other demands on her time – other activities to engage her… the dream of being a great concert pianist had faded, just like my yellowing page and your natural notes.

I am nothing without you. Just a piece of paper covered in strange dots and squiggles. But with you, and in the hands of others, we create moments that touch hearts, lift spirits, cradle hope.

But not for now.

Sadly, not for now.