Your bookshelves are empty.
Outside, the leaves fall.
We’re waiting through
The saddest autumn of all.
Your piano is sleeping—
Too great for my hands.
Still, I will play
‘Til my heart understands.
I took home your paper
To sketch out your face,
But you have a smile
That art can’t replace.
The trees out your window
Have all become bare.
So I search my heart:
You will always be there.
Mariella Hunt 
Very beautiful poem! Like the beautiful words very much!