Ragtime Man
Shoulders hunch as Dad folds his tall body onto the piano bench. Quiet, gentle man, slow smile illuminates blue eyes. No sheet music for him, self-taught, play-by-ear musician. Time-worn hands brush the ivories, dance the scales. The Entertainer Dad rocks the house. Unique, he blends Joplin, Blake, Morath into seamless melody. Our feet tap to the beat, shoulders sway with the rhythm. We become the music. The neighbors hear raucous ragtime melody and exclaim, "Who is that playing?" Quiet, gentle man away from the piano. His hands span the keys releasing his secret as joy cannons from his soul. |
Published in The Longfellow Journal, Volume XI © Dawn L. Stewart All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied or used in any way without written permission from the author. Click here to return to Poetry Index
|
![]() |
![]() |