THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

I wish I knew how to play a harmonica. For that would be grand to sit on my porch and let the sound slip out towards the sky. I wish I knew how to play a violin, for that would be awesome as I love the sound of such. And then there is the guitar. What a wonderful song it can sing. At last I come to the piano. How fantastic a sound like a band singing all to itself with ups and downs of emotions that can only be reached and touched by a soul inflamed with the love of music. I’ve bought a dozen or so of those cheap harmonicas only to throw them out in time. Oh how I wish I could play the harmonica but its like the flute I have that lies dusty on the shelf and only is picked up when I wish to feel so foolish as to try.