The Sound of a Story

humans measure their life,
by how exciting;
how long
me, i measure my life
in music, in song.

each note is a person,
and their life-
a refrain
their souls leaving stories
etched deep in my grain

at first, it’s a fight
my strings sharp,
biting
but with time, comes their story
a gold thread, unwinding

some are so soft
a kiss afloat,
on warm breeze
my wood shines in the sun
as we sing of blue seas

others are wild
a song
full of scars
played beneath smoky skies
serenading the stars

but my favourite stories,
don’t come from snow,
or sea foam
they sound like a soul
they sound like
…
home

see, the thing is
measuring life
in my songs
it’s hard to know
where one belongs

sure, i’m something
to be played
held and shoved
am i really wanted?

am i loved?

in the silence of dawn
my strings
stuck in my throat
i wonder ‘what’s next?’
i wait for the next note

see, humans measure their life
by who they meet
where they part
me, i just wait
for my end
to become a start