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The Little Pianist
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Death In the small church,
Atop the big hill,
Lived a boy,
Who was quite ill.
Visited only by the doctors,
And the old priest,
Little Tommy
Was very weak.
The doctors all said
Little Tommy was ill,
His life would be short
So they had to give
All the love and happiness he could get,
So it would be truly filled.
His parents both gone,
Little Tommy knew almost none,
Aside from the Father,
Whom he loved.
Little Tommy
Had one love,
And that was the piano
Sitting in the large room,
On the bottom most floor.
One night,
Old father John woke up,
And found little Tommy
Not in bed.
He got up,
Looked about,
And saw Tommy sitting there.
The large piano,
Much too big for little Tommy,
Was where he sat,
His hands on the keys,
About to play.
The father stood silently,
And waited for Little Tommy
To start the song.
His small, weak hands
Sat in the position,
The Father had taught him only a week ago.
He just barley laid his hands on
The keys most grand,
And the song started-
Too soon.
The song, it did start
Ever so slowly,
As little Tommy was unsure.
But slowly and surely,
He picked up the pace.
And the song’s melody played in his face.
As soon as Old John
Let out a feeble sniff,
Little Tom looked up,
And picked at his lip.
The father’s eyes filled
And tears began to leak down,
His old, lined face.
“Why Father,”
Little Tommy called out,
His feeble voice no more than a whisper.
“Why father, why do you weep?
It’s such a fine, beautiful Christmas Eve!”
The Father looked up,
And Sighing, he heaved,
“Why Little Tommy,
I cry for you.”
“Your beautiful music,
Oh! How it flows!
It touched my heart so dearly.
And I began to think,
Just a small thought,
That soon, your music may not go on.”
Little Tommy,
Smiling, he said
With the calm melody still playing in his head:
“Father, I am honored,
That you think of me,
As I played that soothing song.
But, do not be sad,
Though my life may be short,
It’s still not over yet.”
“And after I’m gone,”
He said in a whisper,
“You’ll be glad to know,
That I won’t stop playing,
Not at all.”
“When the little
Girls and boys,
Snuggled up tightly
In their warm beds at home,
Fall asleep on Christmas Eve,
I’ll be playing jolly songs of Christmas,
Families,
Cheer,
To each little child-
So dear.”
“So don’t you shed a single tear,
My father, do not cry,
For this Pianist will truly never die.”
The Father,
Heart swelled so big,
Led little Tommy back up the stairs,
To his small, plain bedroom,
At the end of the hall.
He laid the precious child down,
As softly as can be,
And curled up in the blankets,
Little Tommy said:
“Father, dear father,
Do not cry.
For tonight,
Just tonight,
All is well.”
Then, Little Tommy closed,
His pale, dim eyes
And smiled.
And soon,
Little Tommy
Began to play for those little girls and boys
When the father woke up on Christmas day.
