As My Guitar Gently Weeps

Stood in the corner gathering dust
Steel strings
Pitted with rust
Loose and untuned
Waiting to be held
Arms wrapped around
Waiting for the caress of fingers
For passion to make it dance again
To feel fingers press and glide
To make this old instrument young again.
A love song to play
The player to sway
A lover long lost
Never forgotten
To bring to life
A song once sung

RG/NB

poem by Robert Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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