Wednesday, July 22, 2009

crooning to being comfortably numb..


It was rusted
The 6th string needed some tweaking
Lay in silence, cast off and muted,

I dusted away the cloudy tar
It shined underneath,
My first guitar

It was young, scarlet and supine
When dad bought it,
We played it with grandma’s wine
On Sundays after church

I once gifted it to my boyfriend
On a new year’s eve
But took it back, the next
To it, all my beings cleave

But times changed
And I quit playing the strings
Though as age brewed
Memory of first love clings

It is still young, scarlet and supine
I played a stroke
Fell in love and played it with grandma’s wine,
All over again.

5 comments:

ARUNA said...

wow that's pretty cool yaa!

Shadow in the Moonlight said...

Hey, this is really nice... especially the grandma's wine bit.. lends a nice touch to the poem.

Daisy Blue said...

A poem after a long time..:-)well written !!

PurpleHeart said...

Thanks all !! I am flattered!

Ankita Ghosh said...

Beautiful