To the editor:
Although his sight blinded, he saw everything with his heart.
His passion expressed with his fingertips, music was his art.
A good host he was, infamous questions he would ask,
My opinion to him meant everything, and music to him was a tap on an empty glass.
He had ears of gold, and a soul never to be sold.
In his heart, he would save the masterpiece, until released.
The world has never heard these notes he holds,
His memory contains no crease, no fold.