Piano Lessons

I wish I stuck with my piano lessons.
Instead I ran around like a wolf child.

I wish I had practiced my arpeggios.
Instead of sculpting mud forts with my brother.

I wish I knew every single scale.
Instead I mastered swashbuckling with a twig.

I wish I could play piano with closed eyes, keys gliding gently underneath.
Instead I spent nights eyes wide-open, under sheets, watchful for the boogeyman.

These nights I wish I could play Clair D’Lune.
Instead I can lament its distance.

Such a lovely distance, so ethereal to hear, so near and tender,
like memories of childhood, gently gliding underneath.

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About the Author

Zhenya Yevtushenko is one of the sons of the late poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko. He is a published translator, a former substitute teacher and funeral home consultant. Currently, Zhenya has resumed pursuing his undergraduate degrees in Political Science, History and English. Zhenya aspires to become a Foreign Service Officer and a literary translator. He resides in Tulsa, Oklahoma and owes his inspiration to his brothers, his mother, and to the love of his life, Olivia.

Zhenya Yevtushenko
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