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In an old panoramic photograph
of that High School All-State Orchestra
where we met, he stands
on the step below me. I smile
into the camera. His cello bow
almost touches my violin.
I’m not sure if we ever spoke,
but the next year
he invited me to Harvard.
We talked all weekend.
He proposed. I broke his heart.
I think of him now, wonder
if he, too,
plays his instrument alone.
© by Patricia L. Goodman.
Used with the author’s permission.
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Patricia L. Goodman is a widowed mother, grandmother, and great grandmother who lives in Delaware. She is a retired horse breeder and teacher and now enjoys singing, gardening, writing, spending time with her family, and she has recently become involved with musical theater. Patricia is the author of three books: Closer to the Ground (Main Street Rag), Walking with Scissors (Kelsay Books) and, most recently, Unbridled (Kelsay Books).
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Jo:
Very touching poem, Pat.
I too especially liked the line that jah mentioned,
" his cello bow/almost touches my violin."
Glad you shared this one.
Posted 08/07/2015 04:37 PM
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jah:
Nice touch--especially like the description in the photo: "His cello bow/almost touches my violin."
Posted 08/07/2015 10:31 AM
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njc:
Very, very nice.
Posted 08/07/2015 08:19 AM
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KevinArnold:
Wonderful bittersweet poem.
Posted 08/07/2015 07:53 AM
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