The Gift I Was Given

Guitar is a gift,

Was a gift.

Playing until my fingers were red,

Eating mayonnaise on bread.


Guitar hurt,

Guitar told my story,

Guitar sang,

And played.


The guitar still does,

I still play,

Day by day,

With a smile on my face,

The callouses almost

Smiling back at me.


I didn’t regret my decision.

It feels good when you make a good decision.


Six years have passed me by,

With great haste,

And I wonder where it all went.


Playing A Clare de la Lune,

And singing along to the Beatles all seems like yesterday,

But my hands haven’t played those notes in so long.


And I won’t ever stop learning,

Yearning to know more.

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