The blissful tune fills the silent air
Calloused fingertips cling tightly to the oak frets
The russet coarse strings dig into the tough skin
The pick rests between the strings
A, G, F
The chords ring charmingly
Hands moving smoothly with precise
The guitar comes to life at the touch.
YOU ARE READING
Sadness Hotel | Uncompleted
PoetryEnjoy your stay! note: not all these entries are about myself, some are written in the perspective of someone else.
