Strings

You jingle and jangle the strings you hold,

Of words and poems,

Songs and all,

You don’t know what they mean in real,

The ones you wrote,

During that fall.

Hold them preciously,

Hold them well,

One day maybe,

Then you can tell,

About all the words,

Rhymed for you,

As you jingle and jangle,

The strings attached to you.

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