The mahogany guitar
Still hanging on the wall.
Right where you left it.
Strings rusted, fingerboard cracked.
It’s been ages since your loving hands slipped out of mine.
But it seems like it was yesterday.
A sweet reminder of the phenomenal life we had.
You gently strumming the guitar
Filling our little world with the sweet strums.
Humming along
Twirling around.
The notes you played
Had every colour in it.
You left , but the sweet memories of you still haunts me!
Strumming my pain with your fingers
Singing my life with your words
Strums
A.H
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 12:48 AM UTC
The mahogany guitar
Still hanging on the wall.
Right where you left it.
Strings rusted, fingerboard cracked.
It’s been ages since your loving hands slipped out of mine.
But it seems like it was yesterday.
A sweet reminder of the phenomenal life we had.
You gently strumming the guitar
Filling our little world with the sweet strums.
Humming along
Twirling around.
The notes you played
Had every colour in it.
You left , but the sweet memories of you still haunts me!
Strumming my pain with your fingers
Singing my life with your words
Strums
A.H
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