My guitar sits in the corner,
It beckons me over.
Ah, but the strings might need tuning
Even though they rarely do.

A song grows in my head,
A seedy little idea.
But the melody has not come to me
Even though a few strums would find it.

And who am I kidding,
Tuning strings is like tying shoe laces;
Quick, easy, neccesary to get me places.
I like tuning my guitar.

And this song is more than an idea
It is a fire that needs fuel.
I suppose guitars make good fires,
As long as there is no snapping of wires.

This fire is about you.
It burns bright
Brings me fright
What if I can't stop it?
But what if I don't want to?

My guitar is no longer in the corner.
It found its way into the fire.
The crackle, a perfect melody.
The light, an illuminating song.
The heat, unstoppable,
Just as it should be.