Chaminade

I had no repertoire.
My teacher suggested a Chaminade,
A composer I had never heard of.
I worked on it.

I can’t say now, fifteen years later,
How close I came to perfecting it.
There is a run of thirty-second notes
With a single natural circled,
Evidence that I would forget that blip.

I listened to a professional play it perfectly,
And I was astounded at my audacity
To practice such a piece,

Astounded at the power, beauty, length
Of what the younger me attempted to accomplish.