See also
The guitar in his hands sang the language of the universe, those serenades that come to the heart in quietness and are born to us as a song.
By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 28, 2020.
In the early morning light the guitar was deep hue of caramel, the kind of brown that can melt a heart and warm a soul.
By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 28, 2020.
Every guitar is born to sing, to make its way to those loving hands that give it such soulful caress.
By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 28, 2020.
The guitar can only meet its full destiny when the player is brave enough to meet theirs.
By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 28, 2020.