Shadorma: Over the Rainbow

She walks on.
Sits. Adjusts the stool.
The old grand
Gleaming like a limousine
Huge as a moored barge.

She’s alone
Under that spotlight
With it all
On the line.
Now I know why they call it
Facing the music.

It’s a risk:
Playing an old song
They’ll all know.
In their heads
They already hear Judy.
Hard act to follow.

She begins
And with the first note
She has them.
Skies are blue.
And suddenly I’m not in
Kansas any more.


My daughter played a lovely arrangement of ‘Over the Rainbow’ (actually a Grade VI exam piece) on the enormous Bechstein grand piano in front of 200 people at a school concert last night. If that ain’t worth a poem, I don’t know what is. N.