Email Poem

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Poem

In a window down on Main St.
Sits an old pawn shop guitar
Its strings are like a slinky
And its finish has been marred

But when a dreamer has a vision
They keep shooting for the stars
It's not about the glamour
It's more about the heart

If that old pawn shop guitar could talk
Oh the stories it could tell
Its raspy voice from the smoke
Would prove it knows the bar scene well

It's rough around the edges
Yet it strums every chord in tune
It could reflect upon the saddest song
It helped write in some bedroom 

I walked in through the front door
And it's like the man could tell
He approached me with a smiling face
Said here's the story that I tell

I've seen you for the past few weeks
Sneaking by to take a look 
That guitar right there could write a page
It could even write a book

Our late nights were never ending
She knew Johnny, Hank and Merle
Even sat in with the possum
On his tour around the world

She's played all kinds of music
From rock and roll to hillbilly
She even tried her hand in a bluegrass band 
But heartache's still her specialty

If this old pawn shop guitar could talk
Oh the stories she could tell
Her raspy voice from the smoke
Would prove she knows the bar scene well

She's rough around the edges
Yet she strums every chord in tune
She can reflect upon the saddest song
She helped write in our bedroom

I know all this cause she was mine
From way back in the day
But I hung her up the day I got
The note that she went away

She helped me through my darkest hour
I'd rather see that she lives on
Than look out on these lonely streets
And think she missed her first hit song

Son promise me that you'll go far
With this old pawn shop guitar

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