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A Song in the Night
May 25, 2016
A massive oak stood proudly in the center of a great field. Its stout trunk tapered into roots that dug into the earth. Propped against the ridged bark was a beautiful acoustic guitar. Its body and headstock were the color of cream, the neck was black as night. James smiled at such a sight. Memories of his grandfather began to flood back into his mind, of him plucking at strings and singing songs of country roads and old friends. He picked it up and sat underneath the canopy before playing a wonderful tune.
© James S., Philadelphia, PA
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A short drabble I wrote one day.