Strings

She was a music box, he said.
One that performed the blues and struck chords of melancholy.
She’d been played before, by less careful people. Reckless children.
They’d left her tarnished, scratched and scarred all over.
Some strings no longer resonated.
And yet with all her faults, this Man could still recognise that something so broken
has never sounded so beautiful.

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