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Array
(
[sid] => 116717
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Old Guitar
[time] => 2006-03-20 06:45:38
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I walk a flooded city street Buildings stand tall, people rush by In a painted world of black and white And deep in a corner, out of sight A lonely girl lurks, she’s faded to grey In the shadows she crouched, her eyes filled with fear She tried to speak, but no one could hear Her hair was a mess, her face a disgrace She was only trying to find her place But look at her now Alone and tired, her days have expired She’s just turned sixteen, she’s only a teen She clutches an old guitar It’s battered and dull, its strings are frayed Its days of beauty are long decayed Yet she holds it tight to her chest Abstract walls and dirty doors Turning wheels and dusty floors Have been her only home for years Once she had so many fears But now she is free Cos she can sing a song on her old guitar She strums a chord of an unknown tune People pass by, don’t stop and stare They make their way without a care They laugh and speak of teens in the streets ‘See what they’ve done, this path they choose We’ve heard it all in the daily news’ But the girl only smiles As the broken chords fill her empty mind She strums and strums As dawn slips to dusk And stars fill the evening sky Beggars crowd the busy streets Many weep and wonder why But this battered girl does not cry She just strums a song on her old guitar [comments] => 3 [counter] => 184 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Stej00 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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