Never Useless
She plucks the string of the beat-up old guitar, it makes a sound, a sound of waste, a sound of lost time, a sound of no play.
She walks to the chair, and takes a seat, the chair falls to the ground, not because of her light weight, but of no use, wasted time, time lost, and oldness.
She walks to the door of the old house, it's useless it seems, wasted away at the walls, the floors are broken, same as the door...but that house isn't time wasted, as she lives the rest of her life, fixing it up, replacing that time of no play, and time lost, to new life to play, and time put together.
You aren't useless, my oh my, dear, you aren't time lost...you may feel useless at times, but never are you to 'old' or 'damaged' to fix. Just like the old house, you CAN be fixed! Don't give up in this time of darkness, for you never know who or what is on the other side of the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks Grunter, I play guitar, also. I take guitar lessons this fall (: Out of all the poems I have ever wrote, this one is one of my favorites!