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Guitar
October 23, 2017
I heard your voice, in a wooden guitar and metal strings when I visited.
Your itchy beard tickled me when we hugged. You told cheesy jokes, and everyone laughed.
But after the accident, I couldn’t find you. But I still hear your music in the strings.
© Mary G., Ridgway, PA
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This is written in a Korean poetic form called Sijo.