Wood and Steel

An old guitar, unwanted in a thrift store.
It may as well have been a cute puppy; simply irresistible.

Twenty-five dollars.

It was just an old Kay, but it had a real spruce top.
The date code inside showed that it had been made in 1953.
Its finish was thin brown paint, scuffed and chipped, but no real gouges marred its beauty.
It had been played with, but you could tell from the fret wear pattern that it had never really been played.
Some stripper, sandpaper, steel wool and lacquer and the inner beauty of the wood glow shone as never before.
A replacement set of tuners, a bit of fret work, and a new set of strings; this old thing made of wood and steel began to sing.

Some guitars are like lovers, passionate and demanding.
But this one is more akin to an old dog- no longer frisky,
but perfectly content to be gently stroked.

I'm growing tired of searching now
There's nothing much I crave
Give or take a little time
You can write it on my grave
There's nothing more I care to own
Nothing left to feel
All I ever wanted was
This piece of wood and steel

~David Allan Coe