He tilted his head as watched my hands moving
over the ivory and black of the piano keyboard.
His forefinger and foot moved in time with the music
and his mouth silently sang every musical word.

A silent tear rolled down his cheek when he blinked
and his chin quivered slightly… but was stilled in a beat.
He stood and approached me with left hand extended;
in his right, a carved ebony stick steadied his feet.

He tousled my red hair; slid his hand to my shoulder,
a slight squeeze, confirmation of his approval and care.
My fingers on the keyboard slowed in their rhythm
and the warmth of his love encompassed us there.

His words, when they came, were rough and alive
(like the clear sound of a beacon on life’s misty sea)
He spoke only four words, “Just like your Nanna…”
I opened my mind and there was no one but me.

But my fingers started dancing and the sound of my music
Was heard by the patients and staff in the ward.
My laughter and freedom was sensed by the patients
And the ward filled with love without need for a word.