He sat beside me, quiet and still,
His hands on the keys, with a hidden skill.
No one knew the song he could play,
But in that moment, he led the way.

His fingers moved with gentle grace,
A melody soft, filling the space.
He said, “I find it hard to show,
The feelings inside I barely know.”

So he taught me how the music flows,
How in each note, a story grows.
Through keys and chords, his heart was revealed,
A language of sound, long concealed.

He wasn’t one to share his mind,
But through the piano, we intertwined.
Each lesson more than just a song,
A way to express what felt so wrong.

No words were needed, no voice to speak,
His emotions poured in every streak.
I learned not just the notes he played,
But the silent thoughts he’d never say.

And as the melody lingered on,
I felt the depth of what had been drawn.
In teaching me, he found his release,
Through music, his heart had found its peace.

Now when I play, I hear his soul,
The quiet man who made me whole.
In those lessons, I came to see,
That music was how he shared with me.