Friday, July 12, 2013

The Instrument by Sara Staffen

 
My face is polished and smooth


I smell of crisp wood


My sight is beautiful and inviting to any player


Who picks me up for good


The taste in the air is sweet


Like a newly written song


The sound of crisp strings is music


If the right notes are hit along




 

 




 

 


 

 
 

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