Written by: AmandaLyn
The door creaked open, a gentle groan, sent a bell tingling.
It was a step back, opening a memory, a journey through time.
Hardwood, dust, oil and wax, scents of ages past, did their part,
Lifted spirits from cracks and crannies, set them free to roam
In one corner, in the back, he sat
Guitar on his knee
Strings gently humming.
Quarter-sawn oak, beveled lead glass, polished brass clasps
A woodcarvers canvas, chiseled roses and vines entwined
His inspiration? Love? Pride? It showed with each cut
A masterpiece true, Crowned with a finial fine
He sits gently strumming
A song on his lips
A serenade so befitting
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa men have named you A masterpiece, canvassed lady with mystic smile She danced in the room, waltzed past mildewed books Chipped tea sets and treadle machines long forgotten, Ancient love’s labors Now cold and lonelyWorks of art.