My Guitar Poem by BRUCE MARTONE

My Guitar



MY GUITAR SITS IN THE STAND
WAITING TO BE IN MY HAND
MY GUITAR SPEAKS SOFTLY
WHEN I STRUM THE NOTES
TO WHAT THE GREAT ONES WROTE
MY GUITAR HELP ME SING
BEAUTIFUL WORDS WITH EVERY CHORD
AND EVERY STRING THAT I TOUCH
THAT WHY MY GUITAR MEAN SO MUCH

Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: guitar
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