The pretend flautist
I'm circling back to some of the unposted NaPoWriMo prompts and seeing what could use some *polish* (hint: that's foreshadowing, because I am VERY literary).
Early bird NaPoWriMo: Pick a word from the list below. Then write a poem titled either “A [your word]” or “The [your word]” in which you explore the meaning of the word, or some memory you have of it, as if you were writing an illustrative/alternative definition. [Note: I changed my title during revision. I promise I was very obedient to the prompt up until today.]
Cage
Ocean
Time
Cedar
Window
Sword
Flute
My flute was polished to a radiant shine coveted by other flautists as we raised our gleaming pipes to play “Mary Had a Little Lamb” but I didn’t really play because I didn’t really understand how to play the flute. It made no sense to me beyond a few finger movements over the holes and folding one’s mouth over the opening to blow a series of trial squeals. At first I wanted to play the cello: to dance my hands over the warm wood to bend my head humbly as I bowed but when I found out I would have to rent the massive cello instead of own it (as if a person could actually own a cello any more than you really own a horse both galloping into the dusty distance) I settled for the flute, buffed it beautifully held my back straight and my head high and never learned to play a note.
Ah, the power of a perfect last line!
Haha yep I was a failed flutist too