Annabelle

My Annabelle lies on a pew in the sanctuary, forlorn, neglected, lonely. My heart goes out to her as I take slow steps towards where she is by herself. Reaching forth, I carry her in my arms, rocking her, whispering her name and words of apology for leaving her to fend for herself against this cruel world. One hand reaches for a cloth to wipe of the dust that had now covered her beautifully crafted body, and the other applies a lotion to make her once envied skin smooth and shiny again. Her graceful neck arches forward as my fingers absentmindedly run up and down her spine, and the slender curve of her being rests on my right thigh, and she gives herself in to the exploring caress. Reaching out to the back of her head, fingers delicately twisting and turning, ever so softly, she uncontrollably lets out a sigh. No, it doesn't sound too good. My fingers try once more, and now, a strong, clear voice emerges forth, bright and harmonious. This beautiful voice, oh so melodious, fills the empty sanctuary. Standing up, I feel her arms clinging to my neck, her body gently against my waist. Her love, her desire for me radiates so unmistakably. Life is so wonderful, so marvelous. Looking up at the cross, I whisper a prayer of thanks to the One who has so thoughtfully crafted her just for me with His divine wisdom and the power of His hands. A teardrop rolls down my cheek, and then down her face, as we sing songs of worship to the One who did it all, for us. Oh Annabelle, my Annabelle.

Annabelle's my guitar, my girlfriend. +)