Trumpet

There is a trumpet

that I used to know how to play.

I would get up

and pick it up

and it would sing notes that were up too.

I was younger then,

most certainly younger than I was now,

Or at least young enough to

fiddle around until I tired

or it did

or I did

or both

would cough a wrong note or melody.

SQEE SQEE

it would say;

SQEE SQEE

I’d answer

and I would look into it and wonder if it was sick

or maybe if I was and had just heard it wrong.

Now I’m older

and I hear just fine,

though there isn’t much to hear anymore.

I barely notice my own breathing most days.