The Heart Is A Harp With Strings To Pluck

The heart is a harp with strings to pluck, A melody within, an intricate luck. Each string, a feeling, a vibrant chord, In the symphony of life, where tales are stored. In gentle whispers or tempest's roar, The heart's tender strings, they adore. A harmony crafted, a soulful embrace, In the heart's chambers, a sacred space. With every beat, a note takes flight, A composition of emotions, both dark and light. In the heart's rhythm, where passion struck, The heart is a harp with strings to pluck. Each pluck reveals a story untold, A narrative of feelings, precious gold. In the ballad of life, each resonating pluck, A melody forms, a soulful luck. So let it play, this harp within, A melody of joy, a song to begin. In the heart's serenade, where emotions tuck, The heart is a harp with strings to pluck.