Piano lessons (first thoughts)

A piano came with the house. And I sat down with wonder. How does one play a song? Through arched fingers i pound, as elegantly as possible. Or as angrily as appropriate. The sound reverberates around. Or did it begin, start within, to flow through my veins? And perch a tune on fingertips?

Yes! piano lessons, teach me. Release me from this body. As a critic, shed my skin. Please, come bow with me in the end.

(Lessons are going well. Six lessons in and I can play simplified versions of Camptown Races, Yankee Doodle and Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I will spare you the torture. I am enjoying this experience though!)

Musings Poetry

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