Can a Jilter and His Jilted Make Music Again?

I saw my old banjo case

in the back of my closet,

where for years it languished

with the instrument inside.

I recalled the day we split

and I gave my heart to a guitar.

Something moved me to brush away

the dust, and I hauled that old case

into the bedroom where the banjo

and I long ago made music

together. I opened the lid

and gazed upon my old love.

She was as I remembered her.

The wooden neck I used to cradle

was still a dull, faded brown.

The frets in front were worn down.

The five steel strings were frayed

and no doubt needed tuning.

As I so gently lifted

my ex out of her dark grave

I noticed the marks still etched

into the light synthetic head--

flaws made by my errant

fingerpicks scarring her beauty.

I recalled her patience

as this beginner slowly learned

how to treat her properly,

how to make bluegrass music,

how to introduce her to jams.

But all that was in the past.

Could lost love be rekindled?

I had to find out, so I slid

my picks onto my left pointer,

middle finger and thumb.

With my hands in their old places,

I tried to revive our magic.

Hesitantly, pick by pick,

our very first song together

slowly emerged. “Cripple Creek.”

I paused to savor the moment.

Time apart did not destroy love.

My muscle mem’ry was still there.