Читать книгу They Call Me Güero - David Bowles - Страница 12

FINGERS & KEYS

My mom’s the organist

for our parish—

One of the last, she says.

When I was little, she taught me to play

on a worn-out old upright

that stands in a corner

of our dining room,

holding up family photos.

Even though I’m twelve now,

when I sit down to practice,

laying my hands

upon the keys,

I sometimes feel her fingers on mine

light as feathers

but guiding me

all the same.