«Every time I see him and his grungy green jacket, I feel like dancing, singing, writing.  But he doesn’t even know my name.

  ‹Although it seemed like just another boring day in study hall, today was different.  Someone else had entered our realm.

  ‹The band room is home to many of us this hour.  Some practice band music, many do homework, and most goof off.  But not him.

  ‹Even his physical appearance marks him as different.  His dark hair, solid build, delicate features, and small circle earrings make him stand out.  But it isn’t his looks that make me love him.  It is what happens when he sits down at the piano.

  ‹Beautiful music fills the air.  As minor keyed melodies find their way around the corner and to my ear, I am moved.  I take out my pen and begin to write.

  ‹Writing is my art.  As the words dance onto the page, my story is heavy with the same emotion held by the melody in the air.

  ‹The master musician has entered my quiet realm and made an impact on my life.  He has become my creativity, my inspiration, and my muse.  All with the motion of his hands on the piano.

   ‹Every person has their art.  Everyone has someone who draws out their creative side.  I have found mine.

«And someday, someday, he’ll know who I am.»