The Worn and Old Guitar

The musician stroked the strings,

Of the worn and old guitar,

She strung a few chords,

To fill her lonely soul.

The sound was like the universe,

Breathing into her being,

New life, new purpose.

The lone musician,

Let a smile break out on her lips,

For the worn and old guitar,

Still served its purpose.

The musician stroked the strings,

Of the worn and old guitar,

And the memories came flying back,

Of the many times she had played,

With this worn and old guitar.

And how it'd gotten her,

Through thick and thin.

And she relized with peaceful satisfaction,

That this worn and old guitar,

Had served its purpose.