The Ukulele

I run my hand across the neck
And around the precious body.
I pull lightly at the strings
And hear the familiar twang.

I think to the time that I never had it
I was lost; I had nothing to do.
Then when it was given to me
I became cheerful and carefree.

When I play I feel magical
And it transports me to another world.
The beautiful wood colour
And the smoothness of the strings.

Once I pick it up, I won’t put it down
I can play for hours on end.
It makes me feel warm and peaceful
And comforts me and lets me be free.

It is mine and I love and protect it,
When I play I feel as if it sings along.
It turns my feelings into music
It is my ukulele.