Dear Frederic Chopin

Dear Frederic Chopin,

 

Composer, musician, pianist. These are the words that people use to describe you,

But not me. I know you as the one I can always run to.

 

You are my emotional coach, my musical instructor,

And I like to think of myself as your melody reconstructor.

 

Though I do not know you, you impact me still,

Because I love your music, it teaches me to feel.

 

My fingers clutch every note, every rest, every beat,

My eyes cling to the music sheet.

 

I see your stories in my head,

They run through my mind when I go to bed.

 

Your compositions are my hiding place,

Your beats my breathing pace.

 

When I stop to listen, I am left in a trance.

Your songs are much more than what is seen at a glance.

 

Your works forego languages and times,

And I can’t wait to play every line.

 

I impatiently wait for the next story to be told,

And when I hear it, I will play until I’m frail and old.

 

Thank you, kind sir, for your gifts to me,

I will cherish them for eternity.

 

Sincerely,

Heather Martin

This poem is about: 
Me

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