The lady’s music room

With a nod to Swift:

The notes issue from my clarinet
like Celia from her dressing room,
rising clean and beautiful
to leave me behind –
red eyed from forgetting to blink
with spit dripping on one foot.

Some poetic licence there, I actually sound bloody awful because I’ve hardly played in months. 



Filed under poem

6 responses to “The lady’s music room

  1. It’s not how they sound when you play for yourself, it’s how you feel. The poem feels comforting. 🙂

  2. You made me smile! This was great. I picked up my flute the other day (I got my grade 4 in like…1994 🤣) and you know…it wasn’t great but at least I remembered how to do it!

  3. Pingback: I know you | anotherkatewilson

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