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Very carefully and quietly she slid the cover over the keys -- it would be far too tempting to play them again if they were still in plain sight -- giving the process the same sort of respect she would a religious ritual. Because, in some strange way, the piano was like a religion. At least it seemed so with them and how they played it. Together or individually. It was a belief in something that was within themselves to create and offer. A miracle in and of itself. So it was the small link between the two concepts that he provided that Tenten of a bit of a fond smile before responding. "But isn't poetry similar to music in a way?"

Because, much like poetry, it was not in the actual words or sounds themselves, but what came out. The feelings and emotions that they were meant to convey. they conveyed. Concepts. Thoughts. Ideals. They all came out in melody and verse. Both from the heart and from the soul. And from the very being that housed the two. It was the reason why Tenten had taken such an interest in the piano all those years ago. Why she fell in love with it in the first place. And it was a belief that she still held to this very day.

"What music does with sound, poetry does with words," she continued, her long and thin fingers casually brushing over the wooden cover she had just slid into place. Even now, they were still a temptation. One she would gladly succumb to over and over again. However, the young woman quickly reminded herself once more, time was not on their side. And her first class of the day would begin within the hour. Sooner if she continued to lingered near the instrument any longer. So at his shift in stance, Tenten finally found the strength within herself to step away as well. "It's only natural that speaking of one would link you with the other in some way, even unconsciously."