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.