She caressed the piano tenderly

Each touch of a key sublime in its passion

And you held my hands; one rested on your knee.

Delights in the evening excursion...

Your hands, warm; your touch, pure love

I tried to smooth my rough touch o'er

Each finger dear, each muscle strong, to prove

My devotion in my heart's bower

Ah! The beauty of music!

Ah! The happiness of love!

No other pleasure could I pick

Than music combined with heart's trove

Of soft touch and fond memory kindled anew

Piano below us, perfectly tuned

Artist of keen skill and fiery emotion

And sweet remembrance of your hands placed

On the delightful keys set in motion

Belonging to a smaller piano

Played by one of professed lesser skill

Yet that warms my heart in ways that no

Artisan in his performance can fulfill;

For, the virtuoso is a stately ship on horizon

Sailing distant seas; glimpsed but seldom.

Your hands that stir my tender feelings on

Are the faithful tugboat in harbor home.

Memory added to memory

Of hands that sing and love that grows

My touch is my testimony

Your embrace is the masterful command of notes

The emotion gives what performance lacks

For, art cold is not art!

Does one have to be genius

In his playing to touch the heart?

When fingers sing and keys dance

And sweet memories play in harmony

How can heart stirred not beat with romance;

The tongue can only speak complementary.