The piano is being played downstairs.
A familiar melody I simultaneously haven't heard in a while or before
plays over and over again.
It's the sound of our firsts.
Our first meeting, our first date,
the first time you laughed at my jokes
the first time I said I love you.
The guitar is being strummed in the next room,
playing songs of hope, of troubles, experiences and triumphs, of a life well lived,
and vows kept.
These songs float in and out of time
echoing from a future secure but unknown
the melody of our lives.
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