the delicate strum, strum, strumming of the quiet strings humming
of the beautiful twisted wire pulled so tight and clean
of the wise, calloused fingertips stretching its sleepy daze
of the polished, scarred timeline, keeping it all in place

the slices of Sitka Spruce still breathe fresh morning rain
a carefully crafted and mended work of art
where a hollowed mouth remains
near a grounded Indian rosewood bridge
guiding cheap silver across the satin finished plains

but strung about so firmly it quivers in a dance
leaping across lost notes
swirling within the single ring rosette
north on the path to a charming mahogany neck
where the strings must kiss with a steady hand a gold foil peck

all this perfection lying within frame of the glazed tortoise binding
its vowels rippling a marble pond pair, slowly seeping into a warm vacancy
the inner workings of its shell cradles voices of the chords
nurturing, perfecting, carving
the shadow smothered grain breathing, exhaling, echoing
show the world what you can be, show the world your inner beauty
the delicate strum, strum, strumming of the quiet strings humming absorb the air we breathe

During CW II we had the opportunity to write a song and have James Hersch play and sing it. It was awesome and he helped me tweak around a few things, although it's not EXACTLY how I wanted it to be, but whatev it's all good.

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