Prose Poem: Guitar Statue

            Guitar Statue

             A dark grey, a very dark grey, quite dark it is almost black. This

             statue is a composition not for practice. Ordinarily, a guitar would

             stand in a better place, a better place where the strings are alive with

             every occasion. Solid and far from untidy, it rests on cobblestones,

             a reminder of cherished refrains, an exterior surrendering and not

             quite dreary in wind as there is so much of its shape working not to

             be ordinary, and not tardy. It’s a receptacle, a symbol, silent in its

             custom, but never silent when there’s anticipation, a lively concert

             with exceptional meaning and feeling from exuberant voices.