Strings
From my parents becoming irate
to the gentle of hum of harmonies vibrate
This one thing can make it all okay
to pick and strum throughout the day
even in the warm nights of June
I find myself a familiar tune
finally soon I can only know
that there be only one place for me to go
to laugh and play my cares in the fray
no one can ever take my strings away
This poem is about:
Me