Tiny finger press
the stiff piano keys down.
Maw-Maw listens as if Mozart or Beethoven
were playing a special concerto just for her.
Mistakes never even touch her ears.
She listens as her only granddaughter plays.
The old wooden piano.
Though it was old and sounded
like a child beating on tin cans,
to her she was hearing a grand piano.
The chipped wooden keys
were seen as ivory through her eyes.
Every nick and scratch was another fond memory
of her family.
Her only wish was for me to play the piano.
Years later I play the piano
while angels carry the notes up to heaven
for Maw-Maw to hear.