Poetry: Sometimes When She Plays
Sometimes when the music she plays
pours out of the study
through the French door,
I stand at the top of the stairs
and listen to hear more.
My daughter, the pianist,
doesn’t know that sometimes
I spy on her while she sits
at the ebony grand;
I watch her head incline
as her hands—
slender and strong like Liszt’s—
soar through scales, trills, and chords.
Her body’s movement tells me
what she feels inside.
Wasn’t I once a young girl, too,
who sat on the same bench
and let my mind set sail
on that ocean of sound?
Have I not found, as she finds now,
solace in what rings from those strings?
Tonight it’s “War March of the Priests”;
yesterday it was Rhapsody in Blue.
Who ever knew
that I would be so blessed
to have my old passion revived
in my child.
Julia Nunnally Duncan resides in Marion, NC, with her husband Steve and their daughter Annie. Her latest book is a poetry collection Barefoot in the Snow, released spring 2013 by World Audience Publishers. Other recent publications include essays in drafthorse literary journal and Prime Number Magazine.