One, Two, Three, Four......

Try as I might,...I could not get it right
My small fingers that fumbled over the ivory whites
While scowling her face with that crabapple frown
One, two, three, four...one, two, three four...., her eyes looking down
"Try once more..." she repeated, and I would  struggle, so hard....
She would point at the notes, with a yellow Number 2 .....
And circle the flats, and would circle sharps too
One, two, three, four......one, two, three four...
Don't bother to look at the exit or door

The room was too warm..." I keep the thermostat at eighty she'd say"
It helps old bones, , rhumatism, you know..it keeps the aching away"
A scent of Vick's Vapo Rub when she leaned in too close
"For my horrendous allergies".... she'd boast
A Kleenex all waded, a ball in her fist,
Her glasses hung from a nose,
That constantly dripped
One, two, three four,...one, two, three, four...
Oh how I wanted to run straight out the door

"Now, try it again", she'd say, as I glanced through the glass
Out to the sun and the summertime grass
With the sidewalk so ripe, for my playing 'neath trees
For some hopscotch, or jump rope, or roller skate keys
A day, ...not for Mozart, or Bach, or Beethoven...those guys...
What could those grim, long dead, wearing wigs in disguise
Understand of a little girls heart?  One, two, three, four....One, two, three, four,
Oh how I wanted to run out the door

But now................My dear teacher....I wish you could know
How I grew to love music, and remember the days
When you gave me the knowledge and spirit to play 
This beautiful gift, which I cherish today.........

One, two, three, four.....
May I play you a melody?......
And then, if you don't mind...
I'll be happy to play you one more....
__________________________________________________________________________

Miss Ella Mae Engle....  Rest in Peace, God Bless You, and Thank You From My Heart
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Guzzi Avatar
June 1, 2009 at 5:26 PM
loved it! really loved it! I think you could use...a couple of line breaks...after line 8..after "Straight out of the door"..after "Oh how I wanted to run out the door"..there reinforcing the common thread lines. Light & Love
Shango Avatar
May 18, 2009 at 10:15 AM
Dear Carrie, Wilfredo almost preempted me. I was a teenager, and you took m eback there again, I wanted to do saxophone because of King Curtis and Al Pert, but he kept switiching me from trumpet to trombone ... they both hurt, and left me preffering to blow summer kisses at the lady that had my heart ... before your poetry bettered that feel.
Derequito Avatar
May 15, 2009 at 8:35 AM
I was 40, ugh! when I first took my piano lesson under a sweet teacher from Atlanta who had since gone back to the States. Until my dying day I won't ever forget Carol because thanks to her patience, this old musical idiot can now play simplified versions of Beethoven's Fur Elise and Ode to Joy, Mozart's Theme from Elvira Madigan, Bach's Ave Maria and a few of Chopin's etudes and nocturnes. It's never too late to learn, folks, ha ha. This poem reminds me of Carol, my teacher from Georgia. Fred
Strand Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 11:56 PM
Great remider Carrie of the Grade 1 I struggled to get as an adult when my girls were learning Music.Rgds Brian & thanks for your welcome observations.
Devonshire Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 10:31 PM
Love the way you remember the impact Miss Engle had. All teachers should be so lucky. Your love for her will never fade; she made such a wonderful, lasting impression. Very nice, Carrie!
Reynolds Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 4:05 PM
Good for her; good for you! i know that balled up-fist kleenex well, I grew up with my gran. :) awesome, heartfelt write, my friend, love, Kristin
Gorelick Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 4:03 PM
This is great.. my son had a piano teacher something like this..but, he played the piano at his wedding. Thank youy Mrs. Brazelton!BG
Winter Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 1:22 PM
A delightful and humorous tribute! God Bless Miss Engle who now holds such a dear place in your heart. How lovely that you now play piano and thank and appreciate (through all your suffering in lessons) a very special teacher. So sweet! (I had 5 years of lessons and I still can't play. My heart remained outdoors!) Love, Shar
Reed Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 11:11 AM
You know when I was a little boy.. my dad was a navy seal.. and he was not going to let his boys be sissy's.. so he would take a broom stick and hit us with it until we learned how to block . then when we gotten into trouble we would have to do pushups .. or somtimes.. spare with him.. needles to say we learned how to fight. but fight for the good.. I miss reading your poems.. JackReed3...
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