The Piano and I will Wait.
My fingers are sliding on the keys, and I can see that you're asleep, James.
Or maybe not dreaming, but your mind is in another place.
You're leaving tomorrow, but at least we can share this music for a short while.
My melodies for your time; Love and music are all I can give.
The piano and I will wait for you.
I woke up this morning, James, and remembered that you had already left.
I'm not too worried; I know you have a clever way.
I played a song to send you off, maybe more for myself than for you.
But it will reach you, your favorite nocturne.
Wherever you are, The piano and I will wait.
The paper didn't have your name in it today James, so I was relieved.
I shouldn't have been checking, but I had to be certain.
There's a new song I'm writing for you, so I hope you'll be back soon
It sounds just like you so far James, I know you'll like it.
We're waiting, the piano and I.
I played all day yesterday, and pray that you can hear me.
Can forte be heard over borderlines? Over mountains and water?
And after that long journey, can it be heard over gunfire?
I'm sending your way, so keep listening James.
The piano's waiting, and so am I
Things are getting worse, I hear.
I'm still playing for you; Can you hear me? Are you trying?
Everyday I'm here. My fingers are tired, my back is stiff.
Where are you James? I can't finish your song because I can't remember your voice.
Please come back, I'm waiting, even if the piano isn't.
My melodies stopped traveling today.
No matter how I played them, they didn't leave the walls. They didn't go out to you.
They're staying in the room with me, hovering around where I don't want them.
What happened James? People are saying you're dead, but I don't believe them.
I'm here, but I don't know what I'm waiting for.
I stopped playing, James.
The piano has betrayed me and I can't feel you anymore.
The songs are empty and the music is dead. I never finished your piece.
Maybe you're gone forever. Time is moving without you, and all I can do is cry.
No one is waiting any longer.
...I can hear a song, Georgina.
In the echoes of forests and winds of winter.
I may be wounded, but please let me live another day to hear it again.
The others are dead, and soon I'll die too. That piano is leading me to another world.
Don't wait any longer, the song is now yours.