My guitar talks to me,
My friend, he says,
I will desert you never.
Be with you forever,
Honestly…
My guitar sings to me,
Of a blissful subsist, so sweet,
The reverberation lingers,
On the tips of my fingers,
And so, I feel utterly free…
My guitar gives to me,
A subdue but expressive resonance,
A profound and soulful pulsation,
A near surreal sensation,
And a welcome diversion from reality.
My guitar travels with me,
He doesn’t grieve,
Doesn’t mope doesn’t cry,
Loves me so to move by,
And my grief is just a distant memory.
Such is he, the love of my life,
The music he makes, the passion in which I lie
The divine slender strings, The luxurious form,
The touch, so delicate, so mellow and warm.
Such is my love… And he speaks to me…
-----------------------------------------------DR (05/06/07)
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