The Red Guitar

I saw it sitting there
An exploding bolt of red
Shining like a diamond
That got frozen end to end
It was as if it was waiting
For an artist all the same
It had a creamy golden neck
Encrusted with little pearls
It had dull steel fret marks
And shiny brittle strings
And if it were fragmented
I would burst up into tears
For it is worth a million years
Of sadness and depression
And if it were out of my possession
It would be in my fathers
Because he also appreciates it
Unlike so many others.