When tears are plucking out my empty sighs
My loyal friend still sits upon my wanting thighs
And waits my hand without no hows and whys
As his taut echoes lift me to the skies.
Even if my songs are lonely and sad
The more I strum the less I feel so bad
My guitar, travels with me o’er this land
And always there to simply take my hand
In this union my heart’s singing, glad
My strumming days weren’t just another fad.
On my journey my voice never denies
In joyful songs of nature’s wondrous highs
The truth of love on which my heart relies
And loneliness once more has lost it’s ties.
Jem, 21 April 2011
1 comments:
This is wonderful.
It reminds me of the John Denver song- This Old Guitar. I love John Denver!
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