Exceptional a poem Real Loss by Bill Schott Rhyming Poem contest entry

When I observe real loss,   there is no doubting it is gone;   the empty face,    a withdrawn grace,   a black sun on this darkest dawn.     She sat to play a Christmas song,   daughter poised to play along,   but only silence,    note defiance,   nothing right, as all was wrong.      What was her gifted   skill, now lifted,   left the musical score,    foreign and no more --   a sheet with dots adrift.     So, when I saw her face,   realizing nature's waste,   six decades now silent   an emptiness now giant,   not even left a taste.                   Recognized Author Notes My wife was preparing to practice an annual recital with our daughter and realized she could no longer understand how to play the music.

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