To My Guitar

Strings are her muscles, 

And the amplifier is her heart. 

I feel the music travels, 

When I play my beautiful Guitar. 


She speaks in chords. 

She speaks in notes. 

I sing the words, 

And our music floats!


Her melody changes 

Depending on my mood. 

And despite our growing ages, 

Our pain we can elude. 


She is the best, 

I pluge her in. 

I hold her neck, 

And let the music sink in!


With love I remember, 

The first time we played. 

It was a night of November,

What a smile I had on my face. 


Music is my passion. 

Music is my life. 

I may be old-fashion, 

But not my guitar. 


She speaks in chords. 

She speaks in notes. 

She is my guitar, 

And not the world's. 


This poem is about: 


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