Strumming

I am clutching
the smooth wood
of my guitar
to my chest
waiting
just waiting
for something
a thought?
a muse?

paper sits in front of me
others
balled up on the floor
from missing the trash can

a pick
grasped in my fingers
strums the strings
as I
absentmindedly
pluck a few chords

suddenly,
like a sunshine whispering
like a powerful light spreading in my chest
my inspiration comes

I jot down chords
I jot down words
my smile
flashes
I have my song





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