Her beautiful hard body is beckoning to be adored again.
The way we used to do when times were good and there was lots more time.
Her luscious curves are calling out for attention.
She is not used to being left behind.
She is not used to being put on the shelf, she is not used to being put on the back burner.
She is yearning to be touched. Her body attracts dust when she sits around waiting too long.
She still looks beautiful even though there is a thin layer of minute particles stuck to her entire body, it shows the passing of time. She leans against the back of the stuffed chair in the corner of the bedroom.
After unpacking my clothes from a months travels away from home, and getting my bearings in the house again, I pick her up and dust her off with a clean towel.
I run the fabric over the strings to warm em up a bit.
I was told that rubbing the strings back and forth would warm them up on a cold night out doors.
I used to play her by the fire at large gatherings. I never did believe that to be true, do strings really get warmer when you rub them?
I take a light downward swish across the strings with the nail on my pinky finger.
It sounds like laughter from a conversation with a best friend that you haven't seen for a long time.
Like when you sit down together and speak to one an other as if no time has gone by at all.