In a guitar store, under bright lights,
An old man tries to play,
His fingers stiff, it’s a hard fight,
But he keeps going anyway.
He used to play so well and fast,
Now each note is tough to find,
But he’s determined to make it last,
With the music in his mind.
Guitars around him, hanging still,
He plays with a soft, slow strum,
Even though it’s an uphill,
He plays, his spirit not numb.
Though it hurts with each chord,
In the store, he finds his joy,
Playing, his spirit soared,
Just like when he was a boy.
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