Did you notice him?
The piano man.
Did you?
Of course not, no-one does.
You remember we dined
At that posh hotel
On Bandstand,
Near the film star’s residence?
He was sitting in a corner
Of the lobby at the hotel.
It's not your fault
That you couldn't see him,
For he was a small wizened man,
Almost hidden by the grand piano.
I noticed him
Because he was playing
Familiar tunes,
From my childhood years,
Long forgotten, suddenly remembered.
Strawberries, cherries and the angels kissing spring,
Played the piano man.
I remembered the wine
My father first poured for us.
It was red and sour and icy.
I remember there was frost on the bottle,
From the freezer,
Which we gleefully licked.
My daughter will never know the joy
Of scraping frost from the freezer,
Collecting it in a glass,
And crunching it in her mouth,
On a hot summer’s day,
For our fridges don't make frost anymore.
Raindrops keep falling on my head,
Played the piano man.
My brother would play it
On his old cassette player,
In the room we grew up in,
Where raindrops would fall
From four stubborn leaks in the roof
Which refused to be filled.
So we let the raindrops trickle down
Into buckets and sailed boats in them.
The piano man was wearing
Black coat and tails,
Which hung loose on his gaunt frame.
I wondered if he'd lost weight recently?
Or had he lost a spouse or a child?
There was sadness in his stance,
In the way that he sat,
As he played happy tunes,
For the guests in that posh hotel.
I walked up the stairs and stood
Exactly above him.
From there I could see his bald patch,
And that his shoes were dusty.
I could see a tattered diary
On the stand in front,
With a list of songs, no notations.
The piano man played on.
Clementine.
Brown girl in the ring.
Tie a yellow ribbon.
Bimbo!
He played without a pause,
The songs merging into each other,
Colliding with my memories,
Wafting over the beautiful people
In the lobby of that posh hotel.
Then the piano man stopped.
I saw him as he bent down
And took a sip of water.
While he closed his eyes and took a break,
Something seemed to have gone from the room.
The flowers looked wilted,
The chandeliers seemed dull.
I saw the smart businessman
Stumble over his polished speech.
I saw the lovers in the corner
Had run out of words.
Even the young couple fighting on the sofa
Had halted in their tracks.
The piano man resumed after a few minutes.
Where do I begin to tell the story
Of how great a love can be?
The sweet love story that is older than the sea.
The piano man played.
Life flowed back into the room.
The white lilies stood proud,
While the chandeliers beamed.
The businessman struck a deal.
The fighting couple smiled at each other.
The lovers held hands.
Of course, they didn't realise it was
The piano man's doing,
For who notices an old piano man,
In a corner of the lobby at a posh hotel?
