Guitar

Trying to learn, after such a long time,
My hands like a newborns on those seemingly silver strings,
They hurt too soon, but I still try,
Pays off when that first real chord rings,
Getting accustomed to the same, yet different sound,
The steel sings, of new and strange things.

At first, it seemed impossible to hold,
An infant grappling with a too-big toy,
But curiously I played around,
Tapped,strummed, rapped, hummed as if
My voice was the tune, and the wires
My breath, seemingly endless, excited and
Never tireless.

While my touch hardened, and the tones
Which had once been painful to play, I
Thought I could forget easily, the teenager in me
Told me to move on to greater things, sprawling fingers
Made the threads fight me more than before,
Those copper coils which I wouldn't relinquish.

At what I guess was the midpoint, I kept
To simple strands, no need to show off
To anyone but myself, clean, clear, truthful
Melodies, woven around my palms, they perform
Themselves,

Too short, too swift, now they are ropes,
Threatening to tie me down, what was the gift
Of eternal ignorance, now chains of familiarity,
Aged in between the retired riffs,
Whatever newness was promised, forgotten in
Discord, or maybe my ears can't hear,
But now I'm chained to this saddle,
The horse that can't cross the bridge,
Riding towards the river,
But it too is lost,
Silenced by the seasons,
Smoothed over every ridge.