The Blues (an acrostic poem)

Too much guitar can ruin anyone’s day

Heather put it down and looked at the mixer

Everything she had poured her soul into was in there

 

Being meticulous she began mixing the tracks

Loving living in the minutia of the sound

Understating the rifts, but keeping the sad story moving

Everything was just about perfect

She cried when the mixer hit a sour note and lost everything

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