Now, to Begin...

for Paolo

My eager left-hand fingers fret
my guitar’s six-stringed neck.

Where, oh where, are all the notes?
How can I get this wood to sing?

Each of my fingertips in turn
kisses each taut nylon string.

My right-hand fingers pluck or strum.
My whole being starts to hum.

Anything worth doing
is worth doing


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