I love my violin.
I practice and practice
after school each day.
I dream of being
a concert violinist
in a long white dress,
my hair swept up and back
into a silver chignon
with silver high-heeled shoes to match.
My brother is at the piano
and we imagine ourselves
playing in Vienna.,
the Barcarolle from
Tales of Hoffmann,
A soloist at our side.
Of course, not now
but after the war.
After the Nazis leave,
after we reclaim my violin,
hidden away for safe-keeping,
and his piano
my parents had to leave behind
when we children left for England
away from the coming horror
and they were forced to live
in another German town
and could not take
their things.
But we will come back
and play music again,
Won’t we?
After the war…..
Always after……