BY MICHAEL D. WILLITTS
Made of wood, steel, plastic and bone;
From luthier’s hands to places unknown;
Carved and colored from a rainbow of choices;
To build the dreams and swim the pools;
To feel the depths of imagination;
Traveling through land, sea and air;
to reach the hands that bring me life,
or to be hidden on stands, closets; or used as a coat rack.
But if I am truly blessed I’ll find my soul mate to start a journey. The time we will spend just us two, behind closed doors, learning with hands, both right and left, training their ears to pick the notes.
Chords and scales;
Scales and chords;
so many hours… Learn from records… put the needle back…
and then back and back and back again,
just to catch the perfect sound
The work we did in those early days… a work of love that comes though my strings. We traveled the land with our brothers, with bass and drums… and one who sings.
The years go by like they always do;
Just like dreams live and dreams die. The hands that brought my strings to life have grown old and now do not work and soon to go to their eternal place and I’ll be left in hopes to find young new hands to bring me back to life.
I AM GUITAR.