You are gone, and I miss you.
I want to write a story for you.
To remember.
I sit here, pen in hand, but the page is blank.
I cannot stop crying. My tears cover the page.
I crumple it up and toss it away.
The floor is covered with tear-stained pages.
So, still crying, I go to sleep.
In my dream you pick up the pages, smooth them out, and sit down at the piano.
Your hands hesitate, then, reading stains as notes, you play.
It is beautiful.
I can stop crying now.
And write this story for you.