Sunday, October 16, 2011

Poem: Guitar

You strum me once, you strum me twice.
The sound I make is peaceful and quiet.
Nothing is compared to my rhythm.
When the day is dull and gray,
You strum me once
And the day is bright.

You sing, I play.
The quietness is filled with gentle music.
Lovely things filled the air.
And when you stop,
Things seem different.

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