Responsibility

Your smooth wooden surface,

Shimmering like a sapphire,

Neck, long as forever,

Creamy with iron frets,

 

18 years of age I was,

When I first set my eyes on you,

18 deep breaths I took,

Before I first set my hands on you,

 

Angels have said,

That your tone is the sound of angels,

Amplifiers, crying,

As your voice caresses them,

 

Alas, the earth quakes,

As your string snaps,

Beauty exists no more,

When your skin is cut,

 

That delightful pain,

When I've played with you for too long,

My fingers blister,

Oh, those wonderful blisters,

 

I vowed to protect you,

Took an oath to do your grandeur justice,

When we're both old and grey,

You'll still be my sapphire love.

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed