Laura Arnold

My First Guitar

Filled with years but beautiful,
Emotions run deep, overwhelmed
Black with white trim, middle a chestnut color of liveliness
A dusty aroma of neglect
In my room, peaceful, relieving
Loving chords, penetrating the soul
Sweet taste of satisfaction
Actually playing a real song, sounding good, everyone wanting to hear

Poem Submitted: Monday, February 12, 2007
Poem Edited: Thursday, January 13, 2011

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