The Harp

Dec 2, 2010   //   by Nathan   //   Blog, Poetry  //  No Comments

I wish to be
the strings of your harp.
To be played,
to be caressed,
to be tightened
when out of tune.

Make melodies
out of me.
Form my
chords
and initiate my
crescendos.

Put me in my case
and take me
on the road
and show me off to villages,
who have yet to
hear your song.

For their ears have
never met
the notes made
when you take me
in your hand
and play me.