I stop for a moment,
even as I begin, fingers pressing
strings, and fret over the possibilities,
take note of the heartbeat sounding
through the delicate wood
pressed closely against me.
What better music could come
from a beginner with a life already lived?
This is a response to Quadrille #82 – Fretboard of Poetry, the prompt from Kim at dVerse, which is to use the word fret in a 44-word poem that does not require meter or rhyme.