Over the years the notes play on
The music gets old so we write new songs
Practice our words and keep them in key
Times to change then repeat the beats
Patterns I hastily strum
Unique precisions I pick
I am but a fungus in the forest
A back woods hick
The flower, the ****
***** my guitar
I am an ember in the fire
Music is indeed my greatest desire

She had a deep ocean for a mind...

And a gold chest for a heart...

Maybe that is why she was built of mahogany...

To withstand the lightning strikes of envious eyes...!