The Old Piano Tuner

The Old Piano Tuner

As a child

My mother bore forlorn hope
I would become a concert pianist.
Hence the baby grand piano
that graced the living room.
Twice a year the old man the piano tuner
with the foreign accent would come.
he would place his ear on the sound box
almost deaf he would
perfectly tune the instrument.
every harmonic
in harmony sympathetic
to the next note.
The best part was when
he would play classical music
oh! my heart please don’t stop.
it was so beautiful.
Sometimes tears would well in my eyes.
Each note distinct and lovely such pathos.
I don’t think I have heard the piano
as moving before or since.
We called for his service the other day
and his wife said he had passed on.
The piano is not as responsive now
The sound a little duller.
It is tuned well enough.
by the new man
with his electronic instrument.
but I believe it misses
his performance which
made it sing
like the purpose for which
it was built.
I know I do