the keys inherited
from my childhood teacher
the hours pored into fruitless scales
up and down
it was never my forte
but it was hers
she committed herself
the tireless effort
the pencil perched in between her fingers and thumb
the cursive reminders
speed up, slow down
excruciating practice
and now i sit down to play
reminiscent
but my damaged fingers won’t cooperate with my memory
and i cannot for the life of me
play the merry melody she taught me
-you never know what you’ve got til it’s gone
This is beautifully written.
Thank you 💜
Truth. You never know what you’ve got til it’s gone. Life lesson for sure 😘
Thank you 💜
I love how you captured this feeling of knowing something at heart yet being unable to recall it from your memory into being!