Please son, won’t you play? (Violin Musing I)
What does it feel like
When a dream looks like
It’s about to die?
When something so glorious
Yet deemed by him a weary task
Is about to disappear
Like a puff of smoke
Never again to pass?
I’m not ready to give up this fight
Yet I can sense this fight is on
The verge of giving up on me!
Like that sudden yet gradual calm
Before a storm.
Descending ever so gently like a leaf
Yet determined.
“Don’t fall don’t fall
Don’t you dare!”
I call.
“Give me two more weeks
I beg you
I know I can talk you around.”
You’re still so young
How could you possibly know?
The private tears your old man shed
Each time you make magic
As string meets bow!
“Son!” I wanna say
“My heart you hold
With each trembling note
From first to seventh grade
Don’t you know?
Daddy’s so proud and so ashamed!
Did I force you?
Did I hold ruthless sway?
If you really wanna quit
I must let you
I know.
But one more rung
To grade eight
Please my son
Won’t you stay?
Please my son
Won’t you play?”
What a tender expression of a father’s heart.