The almost finished sheets stirred gently in a slight breeze. Beige clothespins held each of them with care to keep them from being dirtied by the mud below. It was only a matter of patience before the warmth of the sun finished the laundry. But soon the wind grew stronger, pulling and tugging at the sheets with purpose, trying to tear the pieces from the clothespins. Too soon, it was time to take them down before they were ripped and muddied in the struggle.

The almost finished sheets of music stirred gently as I lay them out to look at them. I held each one of them with care to keep them from being ripped or torn. It was only a matter of patience before my muse finished the concerto. But soon the pressures of money and deadlines were pulling the pieces from my hands. I had to let them go before the struggle ruined me.