He was a pianist,
A prodigy one
His name was soaring up,
When he was barely nine
His parents were proud and beyond,
He, himself was contented yet still striving farther more
Been all around the world,
More often then his own house
Nonetheless, he has always come back to it,
To his old piano at home
The old piano that holds memories,
Of his beloved grandfather
All the lessons he gave him,
And the time they spent together
The old piano that made him who he is,
And shaped his character
To the old piano,
He will always come back
Always.
My Remedy 