An oldie (but goodie?)

Guitar Sonnet

I, so often, wish that I could
Be made of only strings and wood
And have your hands begin their trek
Pressed lightly at my arching neck
And make a slow but steady trail
By working down my major scale
So stringed melodic I would croon
And then my eyes to your eyes tune
That you would find it no ado
For a bright minstrel such as you
To wrap your arms around my hips
And strum me with your fingertips
And I would find it bliss by far
To be but used as your guitar