George W. Baker
At Christmas time excitement grew upon the old school stage.
A banner hung in red and gold; "A Yuletide Pilgrimage!"
The teacher welcomed all who came as kids prepared to sing,
then youthful voices filled the air with Christmas caroling.
Then as the program neared its end, a little girl returned,
all set to play her violin and show them what she´d learned.
"We´d like to thank you all again for coming here today,"
then flashed a smile to everyone while she began to play.
And out there in the audience; her parents´ nervous stir.
With every note she undertook, their hearts went out to her.
The ending was the hardest part; one long draw of the bow.
She couldn´t let it bounce around. It had to be just so.
With bow and tension on the string, a note so clear and true
brought sudden smiles to faces there like few could ever do.
Then all at once the lights went out and starlight filled the air,
as golden mist swirled all around and glistened in her hair.
Within the mist she smiled and played that magic note she found
while visions of her future life moved slowly all around.
In front of her were high school days and summers in the sun
with friends who vowed, "We´ll never part," then parted one by one.
Then pictured in a cap and gown, her lovely image stayed;
a graduate of Julliard, upon commencement played.
And on and on the visions moved around this little girl
portraying her in orchestras that toured throughout the world.
Then darkened pictures of despair; deep shadows on the wall
moved in and out behind the scenes and crept into the hall.
The trembling hand that touched her cheek one dreary winter day
fell silent to the bedside as her mother passed away.
The note was nearly finished then. Her bow was nearly drawn.
Then somewhere in a blinding light, the little girl was gone.
But in her place, an image formed; a woman in spotlight,
her bow drawn fully on the strings, the last note of the night.
"Bravo! Bravo!" they stood and cheered. She smiled and humbly bowed.
"A Christmas time at Carnegie", was loved by all the crowd!
And proudly rising to his feet, her father, full of tears,
was caught up in the moment while recalling all those years.
Our lives contain the elements of what we´re meant to be,
all driven by an unseen force that shapes our destiny.
And down the pathways that we walk, we´ll find a dream or two,
and in our world are little girls, who make those dreams come true.