I’m tracking your footprints
across eighty-eight dusty keys,
shadowing you with my clumsy fingers.
I’m wandering your labyrinthine lyrics
until they grow bored and release me
back out the door I came in.
I’m chasing you along the winding melody,
right to the edge where you leap into flight
and I skid to a stop, knowing I would fall;
my voice is greyer in its prime than yours was
when you decided to quit
and take up painting.
Can you think of someone you admire and try to imitate, but every time you look at their work you can't helping feeling totally intimidated by how amazing it is?