She peeks out from behind the six-string neck,
An enigmatic look on still young face.
A nose ring there? I think I'll have to check,
I pray she'll sing before I leave this place.
A gentle A string pluck from polished nail,
Vibrations tickle nose and still closed lips.
Me thinks that she'll soon sing an Irish tale,
That echos lusty words and Gaelic quips.
The capo up two frets, she's set to go,
If only lethargy would set her free.
Impatiently I sit and wait to know
If this young lass will ever sing to me.
She ponders on . . . what dreams now fill her head?
I ponder too . . . could that long hair be red.



And, my hair used to be red, it's now its natural colour, which includes a ginger streak down one side of my head. Thank you so much for putting a smile on my face with this.


I'm suprised at how you could come up with a poem like this about just a picture... about someone you don't even know. I don't think I could write anything even close to as good as this is. The last line was pretty funny (not sure if that was intentional) as well... really finished up the poem very nicely. Keep up the great work!
Good luck in the contest....


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