Drums
I tried to teach her guitar
wrote down tabs, chords
but we didn’t go very far.
She hated the red of her fingers,
the strumming of the string,
and most of all the plucking.
I hate guitars she blurted,
my eyes were bloodshot red
doesn’t she know they’re worth it?
I rolled my eyes, told her to leave
shaking my head
my sister was starting to be a peeve.
She wasn’t having fun,
I understood and sighed,
she did say all she wanted were drums.
poem by Janine Alyssa Navarro
Added by Poetry Lover
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