Midland autumn rains,
Morning mists growing colder,
Summer passes on.
Piano keys creak,
Old hands struggle with placement,
But still, it sounds good.
Passing strangers smile,
Lives meeting in the stairwell,
Never again seen.
The scarf on the hook,
Made with love by an old ‘friend’,
Still smells of perfume.
The painter’s wet cheeks,
Just enough to thin old paint,
Now, let’s start again.
Discarded Recollections 
Amazing as always, dear Masađź’•
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