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.