The Piano Lesson

The score from the piano glows,

keys gently stroked as music flows,

orchestral tones that dance with rhyme,

melodic prose in perfect time.

 

With fingers curled, nails manicured,

posture straight and self assured,

the player sits to take the stage,

they pause, they breath, they turn that page.

 

Then BANG, IT HITS, the penny drops,

This page is mad, its full of spots,

Those crotchets, minims, semibrieves,

They make you weak, they make you freeze.

 

There’s counts of one, there’s counts of four,

There’s dots that make you count some more,

There’s flats, those sharps, that natural sign,

But don’t apply them every time.

 

Cross your thumbs and stretch your fives,

Be careful not to cross your eyes,

Now that italic 3, it means,

Well, no one knows quite what it means.

 

But then the Treble Clef takes hold,

It’s in command, it’s strong and bold,

It slowly makes the panic flee,

As you quietly find your middle C.

 

And as the score from the piano glows,

Keys gently stroked as music flows,

The player plays through joyous pain,

Half genius, half hero and half insane.

 

　

BF 25.10.07

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