Nunzio

by Columbine

At the corner of the backstage door, unseen
Stands Nunzio, the old deaf janitor
Beaming, his eyes fixed on the conductor
As the wild finale thunders to the roof.
The girl who played the slow piano solo
That made the governor's wife cry, that's Anna,
Mario and June's daughter. He's met her.
He even shook her pale and gifted hand.
Night after night, he greets the city's finest,
They all know him by name, and by his smile
And by the way he's truly glad to see them.
He compliments the ladies' satin gowns
And buys his wife a new one every Christmas -
Always stylish, yet tasteful. She agrees
When all of her friends tell her that she's lucky.
And he is lucky too, for when the nightmares
Of roaring planes and bombs jolt him awake
He only needs to touch her sleeping shoulder
She'll cradle him and soothe him back to sleep.
The only dreams of which he can not tell her
Dear innocent, and deaf from birth, his bride
Are from longer ago, scented with rosin
Tormenting his old fingertips faintly
With the touch of violin strings. Then, he weeps.

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