Meeting an ex pupil of mine after nearly 26 years,
Then a child struggling with Album fur die Jugend,
Now a young woman, coolly walking her dachshund,
Schumann off her mind, husband at home fixing something,
But still the same voice,
Still the same awkward mannerisms,
Still the same keeping her distance
As though, once being her teacher, my pedestal remained
unbroken,
A marble plinth too high for her to climb.
But still the questioning eyes,
Still the openness that was not really open,
Still the same quiet respect, the almost filial love
That left me strangely scared, exposed to ridicule
Because I feared I knew less than she thought, and that others
should have taught her.
She mentioned she has a daughter
Who cant keep away from the keyboard.
I had to admit I can no longer teach piano,
My fingers have lost dexterity, I can no longer stretch them wide.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
July 24th. - 28th. 2021.
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