by LahDay and night I dream about the body of my bass
I can only imagine how she would lay gently near my waist
I can visualize how the fingers on my left hand would ride up and down her neck
While I would continuously strum out sounds of ecstasy with my thumb and fingers on my right hand
I can only imagine hearing high and low notes bellowing out of my bass with ease
My bass would translate and interpretate quarter notes, half notes, and whole notes that would be transposed onto and in between white sheets
Always mellow,
Always smooth,
My bass would always know how to get me in the mood to groove
She has not been plucked and strummed by many
Yet unattainable is she
Only because a non-musician,
An inexperienced player is still attempting to tighten up her strings
Entirely too tight for perfect melodies and sweet harmonies
Let me get a hold of that polished, smooth oak bass
I would loosen all four strings and free her from that unnecessary tension without haste
Then I would tune my bass to the key of me
And then strum and pluck her strings constantly
Alternating between gentle and strong strokes
But always done rhythmically
In time with my internal metronome
Why must a beautiful instrument go to waste?
I guess she will always be classified as my unattainable bass
