A young boy on a farm, in the whispering shade
of an old cedar, on the buzzing green grass
of a manicured lawn in the crystalline sunlight
of a hot summer day, sat transfixed by the strains
of waltzes by Chopin, dancing softly for hours
from the parlor’s wide white-curtained windows.
And now, decades later, the cedar, the piano,
the lawn and the parlor are only remembrance.
The pianist, the source of his life and his nurture
lives on in a Chopin waltz on a hot afternoon.
~ JT Traxler
