In art class, Matthew, by mistake,
a tiny stab, a skewer break.
A gentle slip, a prick of pain,
but I barely noticed, didn't complain.

A drop of red, but no harm done,
you apologized, concerned, but spun
with kindness in your steady eyes—
the kind of care that never dies.

"Are you okay?" you softly said,
as I smiled and shook my head.
Matthew, you're so nice to me,
a gentleman you'll always be.

A little cut, no big deal,
but your words made it easier to heal.
In that small moment, I could see
the gentle heart you've shown to me.