This guitar has a heart to
talk to my heart.
The strings ring and resonate
as I dream of plucking them.
It is used and scarred from
nut to bridge yet I know
it is or can be put in tune
with the keys above.
I want to hold the neck
and the hollow body close
while I play it to a song I love.
I'm singing my best to
match the perfect sound coming
from the baffles too.
What I don't know is
how many names have
left their mark on you.
).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=marpor1&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/marpor1-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'‘’ No, There’s No Right Of Appeal ‘’');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'Our creators are annoyed, They’ll soon be here, As above the planet they hove<a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1350212&displaypoem=t&sitename=marpor1&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'marpor1');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2024-04-26')){kind=small}
marpor1
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smallsteps
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