The writer.

[Kitosdad]

"But time always passes after all,
And as the Summer follows Spring,
So does the Winter follow fall".

Hey, that sounds pretty good, he thought to himself as he lay beneath the giant oak composing yet another of his failures.

Friends and neighbours praised his work, but after years of submitting his songs to the record companies, he was still patiently waiting for his first acceptance, and the huge cheque that would surely follow.

Little did he know that it was not yet his time.
The music industry changes like the tide, and his music, as good as it was, was not to the taste of the new singers who were raking in their millions.

He had met so many frustrated writers who had thrown the towel in long ago, but still he persisted with his dream of making it big,... just one time Lord, one time will end all of my financial worries.

But it was not to be, so he resorted to writing jingles for TV adverts, and the money rolled in faster than he could spend it, and so his dream of writing real music lay in an unopened case for many years.

He drifted into drinking, and progressed slowly into drugs, which led to his untimely death.

After the funeral, the executor of his estate was going through his papers, when he came across the case.
He was a well known figure in the music business and as his eyes fell upon the unfinished work he tinkled through the notes on the piano.

Now this, he thought, this I can do something with, Manilow could sell a million copies of this,... and so he did. Life sucks, don't it!

Kitos.
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Keep it simple ... Keep it interesting.