Sheet Music

The first few notes, already she could tell
Familiar chords in back and forth like chime
As something she had practiced and then left,
The high sostenuto drifting back in time:

Her mother standing by the door, the keys
Felt large under toy fingers, she was nine,
To suddenly walk out as though displeased,
Her eggshell heart already held with twine.

But with her daughter’s playing she would try
And keep away—just then to sneak a peek—
Such music coming from a girl of five!
Who must not think mom’s presence a critique.

But things are different now, for are they not?
How much more love we are allowed to show;
And yet her mother loved her just as much—
How little of a child’s heart we know.

Will she resent her for her absence there,
For holding one too little or too much,
Require affirmation, guarded care,
Or will all words lose meaning used as such?

Like other parents do we then progress
By reading off sheet music to refute
An older generation, though we know
Our instruments are sounding just as mute.

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