PoetryOctober 15, 2007 7:31 pm
"Talent," whispered the violin teacher
as he held my hands in his
on the fourth grade auditorium stage.
Talent, I believed it was.
I’d seen Grampy’s violin
in a back bedroom closet.
Talent, it might have been.
But talent without practice
equals painful screeching.
This poem was inspired by a Totally Optional Prompt.