Guitar Hero

A nonagenarian decides to learn the guitar.

I am ninety nine today, and I have come
to a decision—I am happy to make it.
To wit, I will learn to play the guitar.
I will gather myself from sloth and
from the putting off until mañana,
shuffle down to Corey’s Music
Emporium and purchase an
acoustic guitar…I should
have done this
long ago.

Neither arthritic fingers
nor that lingering lumbago
shall deter my music quest.
My want is Chattanooga Choo-
Choo strong.  I need not wish upon
a star, for the fire is in me to strum, to
press frets, to discover chords so rhythmic.
Oh, Gibson O’ my heart, you are mere hours
away, and like buttons and bows I am
snappy though aged.

Music my journey sentimental.  Yes, I am thin-
skinned Welshman, stubborn as an anvil iron,
yet I surge like tsunami in guitar obsession,
I swing upon some distant yellow star and
effect effrontery within this dwindled
frame.  Decision is me; it is pent-up
energy, the store of years now set
to smack the woeful none-doer.
Perhaps someday they’ll find
in me an AARP guitar hero.

30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
9-10-16