My Guitar

My hand
has worn its imprint
in the neck of my guitar.
Softly, it slides into position.
Firm, my grasp as my fingers
press, bend and caress the strings.
Together we make music.

My friend
for nearly five decades
I have hugged her curves
like a lover pressed to my heart.
I have embraced her, sung to her,
slept with her, made love with her.
She has always satisfied.

My soul
poured into blue notes.
I have whispered my sorrows,
she has felt the dripping of my tears.
We have expressed a soul serenade,
my history throughout these years,
my heart laid bare for all to hear.
She's always been my love.