Older Than Dirt

Older than dirt, 1932 in May
long before I saw the light of day, 
The Moon Rocket was published, stellar piece. 
staccato was its mark of expertise.

I was three in 1947.
At the top of the stairs I was in heaven
watching mama's hands fly over the keys.
Sometimes I'd go down and watch on my knees.

Mom taught me much musical knowledge,
but this piece was not launched 'til college.
Her memory she depended on;
the notes for Moon Rocket - long gone.

First year in college, 1961,
Moon Rocket's music scored a trial run
in the library stacks, mostly unseen -
dusty volumes of Etude Magazine.

Copying the music, note after note
with tears in my eyes, lump in my throat.
Practicing, ‘til I got every note right.
On my next trip home, oh, what a sight!

Mom joined me on the bench, she was so pleased.
Carpe diem, our day had been seized.
I played primo, rhythm at her command;
she played the bass with stiff, wrinkled hand.

***

2015, I was seventy two. 
Surprise, on E-bay, I found that issue
of Etude Magazine - paid ten bucks cold
for yellowed music, eighty-three years old.

August 1, 2020

Beth Evans:  Same Old Song Poetry Contest
Constance LeFrance:  Dusty Old Memories Poetry Contest
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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Krutsinger Avatar
August 1, 2020 at 10:26 PM
What a fantastic story of resilience, persistence, generosity, empathy and love.
Poteet Avatar
August 2, 2020 at 8:09 AM
Thanks, Caren. As I play it this PM again I will think of you and your kind remark.
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