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Robby
Contributed by
bushpoet
on
Saturday, 8th November 2008 @ 08:55:10 AM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
ROBBY
I was feeling down, despondent, though I could not figure why.
Hell perhaps it was the weather and the fact that things were dry.
Its a soul-sapping experience when blue skies will not cease,
bringing melancholy moments, when ones soul cannot find peace.
Then my mood was interrupted by an e-mail coming through
and I glanced down at my laptop: it was from a mate I knew.
Howard was a fellow poet whom Id met last year in May,
who would often send me stories that someone had sent his way.
As I read the text before me I soon came to realize,
there were folk who faced much crueller tests and tears welled in my eyes.
My full name is Mildred Hondorf and for thirty years or more
I have taught piano lessons to young children by the score.
Though Ive taught a lot of students who have shown ability,
there were sadly some among them who were challenged musically.
Of that number was young Robby and he had a single Mum
and the lad was now eleven much too old I thought to come.
But its always been my mothers dream to hear me play, he said,
and those haunting words still linger to this day within my head.
Robby had no tone or rhythm and this fact he could not hide.
He just lacked inborn ability, but still the lad he tried.
He learnt elementary pieces and would dutifully review
all the scales I put before him, but deep down inside I knew
that the poor child showed no promise and would never learn to play,
but each week his words would echo, Mum will hear me play some day.
Robbys mother always smiled and waved, though did so from her car
and Id never met her personally in any way so far.
Then one day Rob never came again, I guessed hed just moved on,
though I must admit I felt at ease now that the lad was gone.
He was not a good advertisement for what I was about
and then several weeks on down the track I sent some flyers out,
for I had in mind an evening, a recital, on a night
where the parents, friends and relatives could see them in full flight.
It seems Robby too received one and he asked if he could try,
but I told him its impossible, he did not qualify.
You have not attended lessons, so it really wasnt fair.
But my mum was sick! Young Rob explained, she couldnt drive me there.
Ive been practising Miss Hondorf and Mum wants to hear me play.
I dont know how he persuaded me, but Robby got his way.
Hed perform before my closer, just in case his effort died,
and that way Id salvage self-esteem or bluntly save my pride.
Well the evening had gone splendidly and Rob was paged on next,
but the sight of his appearance well, it really left me vexed.
The lads clothes were un-ironed, wrinkled and his hair was quite a mess
and it looked like an eggbeater had been through it I confess.
But he sat at his piano and announced out very loud,
he would play Mozarts Concerto in C Major for the crowd.
His small fingers danced so nimbly on the ivories thats for sure
and I know that Mozart would have been amazed at what he saw.
Robby ended his performance in a grand crescendo style
and the crowd just stood applauding while I had the biggest smile.
I just hugged the lad and asked him, Howd you do it? Dont be shy.
And he spoke into the microphone and gave his proud reply.
Well my Mum has been real sick of late, shed cancer in her chest,
and she passed away this morning Miss. I had to play my best.
Mum was born quite deaf you see, but prayed with all her might,
that one day shed hear me playing and I know she heard tonight.
Bush Poet and Balladeer
Merv Webster
Copyright ©
bushpoet
... [
2008-11-08 08:55:10]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Robby
(User Rating: 1 )
by Jenni_K on
Saturday, 8th November 2008 @ 07:34:43 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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Awww.. this was beautifully written. Such a heart wrenching story..one so full of passion and promise... I loved this...Thank you for sharing this...
Jenni |
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