In its latest Thursday Think Tank, Poets United prompts our muses with the word “strings.” It struck a chord with me, inspiring this limerick tale of an unstrung cellist:
By Madeleine Begun Kane
“That conductor has strung me along,”
Said a cellist. “He’s doing me wrong.
He promised first chair,
But instead I’m nowhere:
Stuck in back, the last stand, near the gong.”