The heart is a harp with strings to pluck,
A melody within, an intricate luck.
Each string, a feeling, a vibrant chord,
In the symphony of life, where tales are stored.

In gentle whispers or tempest's roar,
The heart's tender strings, they adore.
A harmony crafted, a soulful embrace,
In the heart's chambers, a sacred space.

With every beat, a note takes flight,
A composition of emotions, both dark and light.
In the heart's rhythm, where passion struck,
The heart is a harp with strings to pluck.

Each pluck reveals a story untold,
A narrative of feelings, precious gold.
In the ballad of life, each resonating pluck,
A melody forms, a soulful luck.

So let it play, this harp within,
A melody of joy, a song to begin.
In the heart's serenade, where emotions tuck,
The heart is a harp with strings to pluck.