The body is smooth
Cool to the touch
Pressed to my own
The joy is such
That I atone
For past mistakes
And future aches
With the simple
Sound of guitar

Tuned to itself
It plays so fine
Hand on the neck
This song is mine
Sitting on the deck
Or on the stage
Songs of an age
Pass through my lips
To a waiting crowd

Musically she
Sits in my lap
Resting on my knee
Held up by a strap
For the world to see
And the world to hear
Her voice so clear
As we try to strum
True melody.

And I was a child
Clumsy and keen
To learn to play
Like the men I’d seen
On that bright day
When I first touched her strings
And learned of the things
That she could do
With her sweet voice

And when I am old
And the children say
Sweetly, grandpa
Teach us to play
With a voice so raw
I’ll sing to them
This old poem
About guitars
Tuned for a song.