Leaning into Poetry

You draw on the ache,

A never ending well,

Of the right tone.

My heart is strung to the key

Of a single cello,

Over soft piano chords.

Timbre is everything

In terms of a structure to hang it on,

I lack the confidence of the technician,

Not really understanding the unwritten rules.

However,

I feel, rather than just see,

The beauty,

Of a faded rose,

With petals falling.