Wood, Grained, finished by itself without a voice,
But I will make it sing.
A day , alone a month un played,
yet it’s always ready to play my tune.
To turn words in vibrations
in effect to stir emotions
and to move hearts, and make smiles
even on rainy days.
For each pluck that is made
a painting is being painted
as an artisan tends to his craft
so as I stroke my own fire
because sometimes you have to fix things
that have fallen by the wayside
like an empty and abandoned house.
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