Life’s Sonata, Rondo Form

In the hall, it is utterly silent and dark
A little girl runs on stage, illuminated by a spotlight
She will play a sonata, the form is called rondo.
A cold introduction, then the exposition blossoms
The piano’s lovely ivory keys call
And her artistic fingers reply

Recalling her energy, her fingers quickly reply
Beyond the curtains, the audience’s faces are dark
The piano’s singing tones make strong, searching calls
That escape the starkly bright column of the spotlight,
and run with open arms to the ceiling’s Art Deco blossoms
Echo through the hall, back to the stage, the form is called rondo

Outside the hall’s glass windows, an equinox rondo
To the rondo’s melodious question, bird chirps reply
On their tree, in vast profusion, bloom cherry blossoms
Their spring colors bright against the winter morning’s dark
The rays of the sun’s spotlight
Banish the icy cold, and serve as a wakening call

The music’s wistful, stirring, questioning call
Begins another indoor, visual rondo
Spring blossoms in a rainbow explode under the sunny spotlight
To the music, iridescent birds on the girl’s powder-puff dress reply
Their vermilion feathers contrast with the piano’s cherry wood darkness
The same cherry wood that composes the Art Deco blossoms

The elderly present, trembling hands clutching cherry blossoms,
Are awakened, revitalized by the music’s youthful call
Their eyes cloudy with age, but wise and dark
Recall a time when the most popular dance was the rondo
Their feet, frail yet alert, tap out rhythms in reply
They are young again, laughing under a ballroom’s spotlights

Never forget that just one stage spotlight
Can spark the birth of many light blossoms
As many sparkling souls sing in reply
To a spring sonata’s invigorating call
Every year, there is a natural rondo
Spring is here, the sky is no longer dark

Look out the window, at the many life blossoms
A cyclic rebirth in the form called rondo
Spring is here, life is no longer dark