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After school they start to come for piano lessons, one by one.
While Mother teaches for hours on end,
I and my sisters just pretend to be getting along,
and practising too; Including music in all that we do.
We make up songs while we do the dishes;
Silly songs that our father wishes
Would turn into something more worthwhile
But our laughter and fun finally makes him smile.
Any event or holiday time is a perfect reason to make up a rhyme.
I start with a melody, simple and true,
Then compose the harmony for the other two.
We learn all the parts and change them about
'Til we're satisfied with the way it comes out.
We mimic the styles of well-known musicians;
Operatic or modern with jazzy transitions;
Barbershop harmony fits now and then,
And wonderful "tags" we add to the end.
It's fun to see how high we can go
And which of our voices is best singing low.
In unison forming our words so alike,
We practise and sing to our own delight.
While mother is passing her music on
To students who pay to get farther along,
I wonder if she knows that deep in my heart
She has planted a seed of music to start.
It blossoms and grows, taking on different hues;
A gift that's from God, I know this is true.
And when I am singing or playing for fun,
I glance at her picture and know that I've won
A prize so unique, a glorious award;
This love that is music still striking a chord
Far more than a hobby or interest of pride;
I thank God and Mother for the music inside.
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