End of the Music

I won’t begin again
to sketch the dance, to hum the tune.
My violin fell silent—
you left too soon.

To sketch the dance,  to hum the tune
takes energy I don’t possess.
You left too soon—
but I confess…

It takes energy I don’t possess
to tell you what I lost.
Should I confess
the incalculable cost?

I’ll tell you what I lost
when you first went away—
the incalculable cost
of forgetting how to play.

When you first went away,
the violin fell silent—
I forgot how to play.
I won’t begin again.