I heard her name was Olga.
I heard it at the end,
When someone called out “Olga”
Like you call out to a friend.
We were at a party.
She had hardly said a word
To anyone that I could see.
And then the fact occurred
That she was with a Russian group,
Musicians who were here
As friends who brought good tidings,
Good tidings and great cheer.
Yes, great cheer and great music:
The piano, guitar, sax.
They played and sang and sang and played
And seldom did relax
Except to eat and drink and talk
In rich and rolling tongue
With Olga quiet in their midst
Like there she did belong.
I tried to talk to Olga
She was eating at the table.
She managed a quick smile;
I guess she wasn’t able
To speak our native language.
See, she spoke a different way:
She spoke with her violin,
And she took it out to play.
She turned to her comrade
Who played the piano well.
She said “Ave Maria,”
And a silence on us fell.
Slowly like a misty rain
That settles on a pond
And lays it flat and lovely
When her music floated down.
Cindy sought my eyes out
From the kitchen where she stood
She came and sat beside me
And it was twice as good.
For the music sliced the now-still room
It wove a magic spell
Of silence and contentment
Where troubled thoughts could dwell;
It spoke of sadness and of joy.
It felt like feathered snow
That melts against your upturned face;
And tingles as you glow;
A song to lift your spirit
To be just where it should
With family and with friends.
In a log home in the woods;
Music no mere mortal
Words or language can review.
And so I’ll stop my vain attempts,
Because when she was through,
She had this certain smile,
Like a mother on Christmas Day
Who gives the only gift
That you can never take away.
And then the spell was broken
Except for one last frame,
When someone called out “Olga.”
Oh yes, that was her name!
