I’ve been learning how to play guitar for a while now. It’s a slow process, made even slower by aging hands and the associated pain that comes with them. A few months ago, at our Sheep River Library’s monthly Poetry on the Patio (by the Fireside) gathering, Marika read aloud this poem about a guitar to the group. Before she read it, she dedicated it to me. How wonderful is that? I’m still a little overwhelmed by it all. : )
Marika said I could share her poem. It sure gives me a different way of looking at a guitar. Her perspective inspires me to keep learning so that I might, one day, give my guitar the life it deserves.