Piano Lessons Poem by Fiona Schwartzinoff

I finish the piece.
You smile and nod.
“Beautiful.”
I doubt it. “But…? ”
You stride to the piano
Flip the page to a trouble part
And play it as an example,
So fluently…
I watch your strong hands,
Flex and flow…
Like water built somewhat robustly.
You take my small, weak hand in yours
And lead it, lead it to the right path.
You lay your hand on my shoulder,
Squeeze gently with tenderness
To provoke me to play as I should.
Somehow your words,
Your touch, your very presence
Breathe vigor into my fingers.
I play.
I play with pieces
Of you and me combined,
Crushed like an apothecary’s recipe
For rapturous disaster.
I finish with triumph.
You smile and nod.
“Beautiful.”
I doubt it no longer.