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The Old Guitarist
March 31, 2016
I stroke the beautiful brown guitar,
It brings great joy to my ear.
It always works, as it has through the years.
Everytime I play, I feel like as if I am still there.
They always gave me confidence,
And made me think to myself,
I just have to believe.
When I miss them most, I just remember…
They are always here, in my heart.
But as I stop dreaming,
I think back,
I come back to reality,
Where they are not.
© Bailey M., Eagan, MN
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