It stands, a light grained slab of hollow wood
With hole inscribed for sounds to resonate within
A dark elongated neck stretches from the chamber
Carrying coursing vibrations along six metallic strings
that lay cold to the touch
And stay taught; fastened to bronze tunes at the neck

She stands, ready to unleash her immense range of voice
Originating from the deep bellows of her body vibrating through to her fine neck
She stands proudly on the stage
Enclosed in loving arms and lap
The fingers a microphone
Ready to give life to sweet sounds that lay dormant within

But courage slowly fades
Microphone slipping from grasp
The guitar, abandoned
Loving touch forever gone
It stands once again, solitary and solemn
Its voice consumed by the darkness