i strum the strings,
but they don’t sound right.
like my heart when you walk in
all shaky and tight.
i practice chords for hours,
trying to get it clean.
but you smile, and i forget
the song i’ve ever seen.
you don’t care if i mess up.
you laugh, and say, “again!”
and somehow, with you near,
even wrong notes feel like rain
soft, and kind of sweet,
like a secret in the air.
i love my guitar,
it’s my old, wooden friend.
but i love you more
you’re the song without an end.
you’re the tune i can’t learn,
but keep trying every night.
you’re the reason
i play,
and the reason
i write.