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Strum
The instrument’s old
The wood chipped
Strings worn
Frayed at the ends
I position my fingers
On the strings
Press hard
Ouch!
Ignore the pain
Press harder
I strum
Strings vibrate
Beautiful, mellow sound
Courses through my fingers
Down to my bones
Fills me with sound
So much sound
I strum again
And again
Then I reposition my fingers
And try again with a different chord
Till my fingers are red and chapped
But I don’t care
Now I can play.
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