e stringA Poem by m.s.earlyBeing a guitar string, I am a note when strung lightly doesn't judge too much. I wish myself a poem sometimes, but I am only one string praying not to snap. My brothers and sisters E, A, D, G, and B are gone now, Lost in a passionate riff (hot times long ago). I am the high E being learned to play by a child. Having never been a child I don't understand that his purity will not be lost by tuning too tight. He finds melody in my singularity one note at a time. He finds the sweet note when he is alone, and his eyes are closed, and his teeth are clenched, and his mind is clear, and his heart is full of blood. A child with a message and a song is taking me to a street where no one notices one string, just his voice and I, one note at a time. As we go, I sense his changes. He down tunes me and changes the key. As he gets older I get hard like a stone, and he gets soft like water. I rest in a velvet case. He changes the world.
© 2014 m.s.earlyReviews
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Added on March 4, 2014Last Updated on March 4, 2014 Authorm.s.earlyVAAbout"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..Writing
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