Another Ukulele Poem

I chose to veto the tiny four-stringed 

instrument. In contrast, you endorsed it.

Your home, full of open valves and taut drum skins.

Mine sounds a cappella space between learned rests.

Only a rehearsed vibrato can stand

at attention to withstand the attention.

Tempura tones quick start flash harmonics.

A fingertip on string lets go a sine wave.

Intimate contact with strings can fill

a bandstand with pizzicato hope.