Rigidity sits in the chair:
Knotted muscles stretched like a bowstring.
Sitting still, soaking up the somber gloom.

A tremor appears, cracking the raw granite of his face,
Passing over his surface just as a wave of sand
Sweeps down a dune.

His fingers rub at his arm:
Darkness traps him in its embrace
Until dawn peeks through the window,
Its glance resting on the old piano
That sits serenely in the corner.

A sigh's echo fades.