My fingers are becoming very agile,
no words are needed for this melody.
I’m weaving in between six wires,
and finding my way between harmonics.
It’s not as simple as it looks or sounds,
my hands are like paintbrushes,
and on these twenty-one frets,
I’m about to paint my masterpiece.
If these notes were words,
this would be the novel of my life.
If this body and neck were alive
I would surely be in love.
This has been my gate,
it has kept me sane,
it listens when no one else is around,
it’s more of a “person” then anyone
I have come to know or love.
And now my calloused fingers
are starting to bleed,
so I better put it away for a night.
Let my fingers recover,
and tomorrow...
Tomorrow I’ll start again. |
Submission Name: Classic
