A Mother’s Pride

He played to the world
Not as a mere player on a stage
But as one who could invoke emotion
Inciting the orchestra of the soul
To rise in a crescendo of rupture
Imploring the heart to sing her songs
The anthems of a thousand angels
Voices thronging in the heavens of mind
Where the applause of the timpani
And the sheer beauty of his trombone
Magnified his magnificence
Expounding the splendour; the tone;
The resonance; the sound
That became one between player and her
As she listened to him
Transfixed; adoringly
Full of pride; full of love
For he played to the world
Not as a mere player on a stage
But her son; no longer a boy but a man
The evolving virtuoso
With his gift unwrapped for the world

Dedicated to my son on the occasion of his performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Trombone Concerto with Lincolnshire Youth Wind Orchestra, July 2014

Photo credit: BenDJ Photography 2014

 

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Pride

They say that pride heads up a fall
But pride that is well placed
Can uplift and imbue esteem
To those who might have raced
To beat, to win, to overcome
To save and to inspire
Those who have gone that extra mile
Each one who we admire
For then such pride will honour and
Accelerate their worth
For pride that comes from open hearts
Is the best thing on earth!