On a dirt road in the country side,
Nothing but hills surrounded me.
Hills that blossomed in the spring with beautiful shades of green.
Neighbors were a field away.
It was travelled by few but many at the same time.
A road for night-time walks and hearing the crickets evening song, the frogs croak,
and the whisper of the wind rustling through the fields,
making that peacful night-time walk eerie.
A road to learn how to ride a bike on and then,
a few years later, how to drive a car.
Travelled by big tractors, an occasional car,
And every now and then,
the hooves of escaping cows.

The feel of the smoldering, hot sun;
beating, beating down on my skin.
So warm that it turns my flesh a rosy-pink
that stings like an open-wound with salt poured into it.
In the distance there are cries of laughter
and the munchkin-like voice of a child.
I can’t decide if they add joy to this wondrous day
or simply ruin the peaceful, innocent beauty of it.
A view of once dead trees is now starting to erupt with color.
I hear two birds quarrelling in the branches.
And then the obnoxious beeping that just ruined my train of thought.

When I died
the sun broke through the clouds,
casting a beautiful ray of light upon everything.

And the bird's throats quivered with a beautiful song.
It was a beautiful fusion of all of my beloved classical pieces.
The pianists’ fingers gracefully touched
each and every key
with a stroke of love and sorrow.

When the last piece ended
the bench was pushed in
and the top was closed softly for the last time.

With a gentle kiss, both my body and my piano were laid to
rest in peace.