#InvisibleThreads

My sweet Anna Mae,
I heard you play again today
On the old oak piano
That still sits centered in the sunroom.
I saw your silhouette in the early morning light--
Your slender fingers gently caressing the keys--
Through the sway of the curtains
From the late fall breeze
Drifting through the open glass doors.

The smell of your perfume still lingers here
With the memories of our weekend mornings.
You'd play my...