A Wooden Box With Six Strings of Joy

My Life Through Poetry

On a wooden fret sat six strings
Bringing joy, indeed it brings
Wanting all to unite and sing
For some their money, ka ching

The challenge to mastermind
An instrument such defined
Pray whoever invented this
You certainly left a gift behind

The melody, the symphony
The rhythm, the company
All together, for forever
I know not if it true whether

But all in all, sweet notes when churned
G Major to F, did make me burned
But such is the sweetness that comes around
Feeling of timelessness so profound

Alas I must this tribute end
And to this instrument my fingers bend
For when sorrow comes knocking to end
This guitar shall this heart defend

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