Posted in Creative Writing

6 Strings

I was eleven.
My arms were too fragile
to cradle a dream.
My fingers were graceless
aged twigs impatiently waiting
for spring and new beginnings.

I was sixteen.
Too young for giving up,
Too old for clean slates.
I  wrote his name like a wish
and with a touch, you answered,
trilling my heart-song to the world

Then, I was seventeen
and bored. The path to success
ran smooth, but was paved for me
by someone else.
My arms had grown stronger
but my dream, more fragile.

I was nineteen,
and having followed the path,
I came to its abrupt end.
Faced with uncertainty,
my dream splattered
like a giant raindrop
into hundreds more,
and I told you every one of them.

I am twenty-one
and I want to hold you.
My arms are strong
but my heart is fragile.
I can’t sing for you anymore.
My dreams are still a hundred raindrops
my fingers again frozen like aged branches in winter.
I cannot sing for you yet.
Let my sorrows ring into the world
to tell them the things I can’t.

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3 thoughts on “6 Strings

  1. This is a really beautiful and well written look at growing up. I like that it ends on the slightly hopeful note of “I can’t sing for you anymore” vs “I cannot sing for you yet”, makes me hope this nightingale will learn to sing again soon 🙂
    I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award. If you want to participate too the rules are here: https://birchstreet.blog/2017/05/02/the-versatile-blogger-award/ No pressure if you don’t want to join in, but I wanted to let you know that I really enjoy your writing.

    Like

      1. You’re very welcome. You have a great blog, I really enjoy reading your stuff.
        Thank you so much 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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