You could play guitar inside
a carved out amphitheater
within a grain silo. The notes
that get trapped inside
honeycomb pockets
would resonate all the truer
a roots sound with the memory
of wheat protecting them.
I would stand
a perpetual ovation
in my red steel balcony—an intervention
that gets results.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
I do like this very much not a bad little poem and i myself have a passion for music and guitars. Well done and good luck
LikeLike
Thanks for checking out my blog. Always good to know there are other poets out there. What would the world be without music?
LikeLike