Wee squirts, faces upturned,
Rapt ears and eyes agog
Elders’ rosewood box hums.
Frets vanish, fingers fly,
Grown now, on stage:
Switch flips, then machine-like
Precision – with a smile.
Picked notes dance and flutter,
Resonant manifestations of passion’s
Kim is the host of dVerse today. Kim says:
This week I’d like you to take any meaning, form or compound of the word fret, and write a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting your title), including the prompt word.