a not so silver harmonica

A silver harmonica lustrous and new
Left alone too long and went askew
Rust and grime build up the edges
Mold and fungi growing in the wedges
Once played over and over again
Played so cunningly, it should’ve known then
Letting out a peep of despair
That silver harmonica became aware
It refused to sing its melodic tune
And was discarded under the blood red moon
Only to sit deep in the foreboding shade
Wondering if she should’ve just stayed.