The weekly ritual of the piano lesson . . .


Down the blocks of sidewalk I go,
Brown leather, gold initialed music case in tow….
to the piano lesson.


Through neighborhoods friendly with neat houses in place,
Soon to see a smiling face . . . the piano teacher.


Up the broad steps to the side porch and door,
Walking upon the wood plank floor . . .
to the piano lesson.

Inside the cozy parlor couch awaited,
The piano lesson quietly contemplated . . .
while others took their piano lesson.


The large mantle clock ticked the time away,
As if an ancient rhythm to play . . .
during the piano lesson.


Coffee table spread with National Geographic and Ideal magazines,
Spoke of a kinder, gentler time so serene . . .
at the piano lesson.

Teacher’s gray hair coiffed in a Gibson girl look,
Prim and proper was her look . . .
as she gave the piano lesson.


She sat in her side chair, pointer in hand,
As she listened to your lesson , pointing to the music stand . . .
during the piano lesson.


Soft spoken, encouraging words to all her students were spoken,
Advice on discipline was an extra token . . .
at the piano lesson.

Seasons came and seasons went,
As my youth was spent . . .
at the piano lesson.


I will never forget her face or kindly ways,
The appreciation for classical music she taught me has withstood years and days . . .
a result of the piano lesson.

 


© By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@msn.com)

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The Broken Door Glass

Savor The Season

Bopper, Thanksgiving

Simple Pleasures

Once Upon A November

Bountiful Harvest




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