She sits at piano stool and plays a piece,
A Chopin Waltz, a piece she holds so dear indeed,
She plays in light, she studies hard at night,
and sleeps at 12 until next day springs bright.
When everything around may seem so dull
to her, she keeps a smile upon her face and gives
a hug to those who at the time are sad.
What thing may she have learnt, so wonderful
indeed, that through all sadness she can live
quite bright, when all she wants is her “good lad”.
When quiet hours come round once more, at last
she cries: She thinks of loved ones in the past.
Though she be nice to all us – gentle, kind –
she misses those held dear she left behind.