Lost Pick Found Pick

Lost Pick Found Pick short poem

Photo by Patrishe

The day I picked my black lucky pick
It glided down the strings of my guitar strings
Thin as a feather tough as a shell
Kept it safely and it treated me well
Tucked within the strings
Next to the frets
Fell into the deep hole at times
Under the pillow it went without chimes
In the cupboard or drawers chest
To its own wish and behest
Lost here found there
Its own wandering world it seems
Searching searching all the day
Tons of other picks will just not do
Till I have you my lucky you..
Mad about the pick all keep chanting
But its me who knows why I m in the wanting
Like a pot of gold it may look
When I suddenly get a glimpse in the nook
Promise I will keep it close by now
But whatever I do it grows wings and flies it vows..

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