Lines 1-3:

The title subtly hints at a musical "lesson" (line 1), setting the scene for an unfolding narrative. Right from the start, the narrator signals a transition with the phrase "Sometimes, in the middle..." (line 1) suggesting a turning point as "we exchanged places" (line 2). Here, "we" hints at a student-teacher dynamic, perhaps within the intimacy of a private session. Oliver masterfully immerses the reader into an ongoing story, as if we've stepped mid-verse into the rhythm of a larger composition. As the teacher assumes her position at the keyboard, it becomes apparent that the narrator occupies the role of the student, observing as the teacher readies herself by momentarily fixing her gaze on her hands spread across the keys (line 2).

Lines 3-6:

As the teacher delves into her music, her surroundings fade from her consciousness; it's as if the familiar walls of her home dissolve, leaving her free to escape into the music. The mention of household elements by the narrator hints at the teacher's life, one centered on domesticity and familial ties.

Lines 6-9:

Replacing the tangible environment of home, music emerges, its sounds sculpting into forms and gaining substance. The student-narrator depicts this transformation into a "scarp," or escarpment—a formidable cliff-like presence. This imagined scarp, described as white, suggests both its ethereal nature and a sense of positivity. The narrator notes that this musical ascent is a solitary journey, akin to scaling a steep cliff alone (line 9), perhaps drawing on the dual meaning of "scale" in music and climbing.

Lines 9-10:

As the metaphor deepens, the narrative shifts from climbing to leaping over rocks towards the summit. Perhaps, after an arduous climb, the path smooths into a gentle slope, beckoning to be traversed with ease. Upon reaching the pinnacle, the narrator feels transformed, momentarily pausing as if she has arrived ahead of her teacher, awaiting her arrival. It is a moment of epiphany, where the student perceives the direction and destination of the musical journey before its conclusion, gaining insight through both listening and playing.

Lines 11-12:

In these lines, the teacher surrenders to the music, embodying a spirit of wild abandon, a stark contrast to the typical stereotype of a "piano teacher," often likened to the reserved image of a "librarian." As her hair comes undone, so do the constraints, symbolizing a freeing of bonds.

Lines 13-16:

While the student anticipates the teacher's presence, the teacher seems lost in her performance, perhaps even self-forgetful. Both are transported beyond their immediate realities—one through playing, the other through listening—yet they share the same musical experience. However, a stark difference remains: the teacher symbolically transcends "the duties of flesh and home," eluding even the shadows of danger and mortality. In contrast, the student remains tethered to life’s inevitable march towards death, as signified by the metronome—a relentless reminder of time ticking inexorably like a scythe or the pendulum of some grim clock, lurking beneath the melody's surface.