Return of the Blue - 4

It's been years since I touched you last,
The occasional haunting pieces remind me
Of the wondrous bliss you can create.
Discontinuous strings cascade down the sheet,
In the harmony of an overflowing water fall.
Excuse me my little piano, for my failure.
I wish I could have known you better,
I left for pastures blue, when I should have
Held on to your white and black
With the harmonious unison of the left and right.

And yet, when the occasional melody
Trickles down by restive mind,
Floating through the din of the mundane,
I hark back to the blue days.
The unbridled joy of creation and following,
However imperfect or incomplete it may be.
And as I trudge through the bluish hue,
Imagination is all I have at this stage,
An overflowing melody clutching the
Rhythm of one's faltering heart.
The fingers move as if they know where to go,
On the whites and blacks, in discordant harmony.
I may not know you well for real,
But in my mind, I am the maestro,
Of my little piano, from the days old blue.