Sound Check

Sitting in the old Guitar Factory
Since 1972
Saturday morning setups
For joy on the strings after work
A Saturday morning pilgrimage across town to the luthier shoppe

Broken leaves cellophane and dirt on the worn high traffic carpet that is the floor
And the smell of woods of dust of metal strings of phosphor bronze of sitka spruce

Sounds of strings winding strings tuning
And the old air conditioner click click clicking along
Pushing air against the faded out wood paneling
The fluorescent lights whispering their secrets
Brush whisking across the fret board after the oil rests

Mixing with
Chimes hanging on the door sounding
As more guitar travelers enter and exit
As guitars getting renewed life sound off
With fresh oil on the fret board
And bright new strings

While the luthiers do their special work
Bringing life to sound
Sound to life
Potential of a few chords a few arpeggios played

How they can change a day from bright to sunny bright
Or express an ode of sadness
In a moment of stillness
Alone in your room
Just you and your old guitar

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, March, 2017



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