Born To
Play
The ukulele
sat there hanging all alone,
it called
to me,
it wept, it
connected to my bone.
I knew
right then I was born to play,
and I
rushed over without a delay.
The
splintered wood scratched my arm,
but I
kept playing for that was my charm.
My pick
was plucking the perfect strum,
Everyone in
the house crowded around to enjoy the fun.
As the
tune and music played the song,
it danced
and it swayed with every chord it made.
When we
heard the clock strike 12,
we knew the
day was done,
but with
a quick flick of the wrist,
we
started back up until the music met the sun.
