My Green Guitar is old and weathered 
Your new white guitar is new and shiny

My hand grapples with the strings and choppy notes come out
Your fingers caress the cords and graceful melodies grace the air

My hand strangles the neck holding for dear life
Your palm offers a gentle support to the stem of the guitar

My guitar seems oversized in my lap making me uncomfertable
Your guitar seems as if it was built for you crafted out of the same stone of which you came

My guitar is chipped and battered
Your guitar is polished and untouched