Heard by dust

Light breaks through the grime of the cracked and faded glass window. he sits at the dusty piano, playing for his sanity. Soft music floats around; he closes his eyes to remember: Once upon a time that piano was without flaw; Tuned, Cleaned. It was played at the majestic parties She used to create for him, when She still cleaned; when there were still reasons to celebrate. She loved his music almost as much as She loved him. Today, with inches of dust, he still plays; remembering the feeling of elation at the sound of the applause he was given. Today, there is dust where applause should be. She would sit upon the piano, The same spot every night. Where he would play, not for her- Yet She would listen. In the back corner of his mind it would displease him that She would sit there, making him tune before every new day. Opening his eyes, he looks around while his music fades. Today the flaw is that he did not have to tune. Today the flaw is that where she usually sat, the only clean object in the house sat- a picture of her sitting on his love; Her sparkling eyes transfixed upon him, fascinated by his music. The dust finally becomes too much to stand. Tears welded in his eyes, Tears fell from his eyes. Today, he finally played for Her- Today, he is only heard by dust.