My Old Guitar

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I layed awake one night, I could not seem to fall to sleep. I wanted to write something so bad, so, I got up. I got a pen and I just started to write. Nothing I seemed to be able to write was very good, so I looked around the room until something sparked my interest. My eyes swung around and landed on to my Old Guitar. I love that guitar, but have never been able to pick it up, and treat it the way it should be treated. So, this I produced...

Submitted: March 03, 2008

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Submitted: March 03, 2008

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My Old Guitar

 

 

Written on October 16, 2007

 

 

 

I sit and stare at that old withered guitar as if I am waiting for it to play me the melody, and harmony of my thoughts. But it doesn’t. It sits dormant, gathering dust, and undoubtedly undisturbed. It wants to fly, but I have been to scared to try. I just sit and look, and stare, wishing it to play, daring it to teach me. Wanting to not be lonely, it longs to be used. For seventeen years it has been abused. I have tried to take it up again, but am left overwhelmed, and confused by it’s infinite talent. I watch it closely, dreaming of all the songs, and friendship it could bring. If only I learned to make My Old Guitar sing.

 

 


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