My Guitar Has Strings
A frame for my picture is what I need
A focus for my finer views
A border to keep out noxious creed
An outline to delineate precious hues
Unframed, like rivers the colors run
Edges chart the water’s flow
Boundaries contain bank’s overrun
Margins show where wild fish go
Some children color between the lines
Others simply splash around
Two Orientations of a different kind
Neither right nor wrong, a different sound
Because I play tennis with a real net
And you strum an air guitar
Our lives are richer since we’ve met, but
Our dreams are shared from a different star
No comments:
Post a Comment