Recital

 

There's an empty seat on the piano bench,

no music on the stand

Gone is the lady who used to teach,

the keyboard free from her hand.

 

Gone is the lady with the beautiful voice

who helped me all along

With exercises, a steady hand,

ears tuned for notes gone wrong.

 

I cry, "How can I sing now, Lord?

And why did she have to die?

I still need her teaching, Lord;

I still sing sharp, you see.

 

"There's a piece of me that's missing, Lord;

it's gone with her, you see."

Looking at the February calendar,

one name where two should be.

 

"There are other worlds to sing in," he replied,

"and I needed her voice up there.

I know you've heard her a time or two;

I've watched you and know you're aware."

 

I scan the crowd from my seat,

hoping for a glimpse of her face.

Though I'm well aware she isn't there,

I trust she's in a better place.

 

So I take my seat on the piano bench,

put my music on the stand.

I think of all she taught me

and then I poise my hands.

 

And the opening chords ring out true,

the runs go clear and smooth.

And by piece's end, the final chord

rings out like a great Amen.

 

-- Sharon Lovering