Guitar Upon The Wall
The guitar hangs upon the wall
like a picture drawn a thousand times;
but, where is the use it needs to feel,
the lyric phrase, the quirky rhymes?
Strings, untuned, coated fine
with the dust of betrayal,
silently thrum to the tune
of an unheard song
from long, long ago;
when, or if, they shall play again
it’s beyond my knowledge to know.