In my heart, a mandolin
just waiting to be played—
there are music sheets,
ignore them. Doesn’t matter
if you know how to play.
What matters is you try.
What matters is you practice
tuning the strings
until you find the way
to make them sing.
What matters is that
we both know there’s
music in there just waiting
to be found and
your hands are curious,
tender.
this is beautiful 💞💕💞
thank you!
Oh, these words…”What matters is you try”
It felt like this poem was sent to me to make me understand something vital… and true… and all too illusive to me – until now…until now.
I thank you, and if they only knew, so would the ones that will receive a different me henceforth.
Namo (I bow)
Love and gratitude,
Namaste
Augusta
thank you, Augusta, oh that hidden music. so glad that the poem speaks to you.