Sitting in its dusty bag
Quietly
Longing to be played
A melancholic instrument
Carrying memories
Of better times
And the small
Pang
Of pain
And longing
Always pulls on my heart strings
Whenever I
Take it out
Of that dusty bag
Look at it, and
Play it
Its warm sound
Filling my ears
The comforting
Vibrations
Running through the instrument
Reminds me all too much
Of those times
Those happier times
Years ago
When everything
Was fine
I place the guitar
Back in it's dusty bag
And once again
That door
Leading back to those memories
Shuts with a bang.