"Don't play that. Play the Major chord."
He was always there, at least on stage with me. Always correcting my mistakes and encouraging me to play through my mess.
My security, even though it lasted only half an hour every week.
My confidence, my pride.
Bliss.
Today he was not there. Don't know why nor where he was.
So I composed a dirge.
The major chord was too aggressive.
The minor just right.
Melancholic songs deserve reverence, musical reverence.
It started with the E minor,
But there was no guide from there,
Just one chord to describe death.
Just my lonely self and my lonely chord.
Guess it was perfect.
Death is self explanatory, it needs no alibi.
A dirge as we lowered the casket into the ground,
In it, lay hope, dressed in different shades of confidence.
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