A happy foursome: Me, Elizabeth, Fanny (beneath the piano) and Mozart (on top of the piano), 25 years ago.
Piano
by D.H. Lawrence
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
My mother plays…I still remember waking up to the organ or piano on Sunday mornings as she practiced for church later that morning. Sometimes I still hear a piano in the night awakening from a dream to only silence in the darkness…some memories never die. My mother still plays for funerals, concerts, churches, etc. at 72 and can really beat out Rag time or Gospel. I wish I played….I weep like a child for the past.
Pretty neat…love the picture!