It Goes Like This

My fingers hurt when I
tried to play my guitar,
all of us now turned
unpracticed and old.
While the six-string sounds
better than ever with its
seasoned spruce body,
my seasoned body  in motion
sounds of castanets.
Oh to be as springy again
as my Larrivée when I
pulled it new from its box
twenty years ago, seeking
to regain something I’d lost
from twenty years before that.
For a few seconds today
my stiff old hands forgot
how to form a D minor chord.
I’d blame them, but they
were only following orders
from a brain whose strings
had gone dull and slack
a few years ago, too.
So I sat down to write this,
hoping to bring them back
into tune, at least for
a little while. My head
now hurts after I try playing
with words. But, as with
my guitar, who’s really
listening but me anyway?

Funny how calluses form on my fingers from using them too much, yet grew on my brain from not using it enough. 

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