Given you are fast, where I am slow
And hard, where I am soft
And steely in resolve, where I am insecure
Given what you have, and what I lack
It may be, sometimes,
That there are moves, habitual for you,
That simply do not fit
My hand, my mind, my knack
If the universe sees fit to grant
An act or two that spring, unbidden to my hand
Who am I to peer inside the horse’s mouth?
Perhaps not all instruction can be
Strictly by the book
There need be room for variation
I promise: I will earnestly audition all that you suggest
But in the end, can we agree, whatever scores consistently is best?