A Little Strummer's Spark

A flash of glossy tortoiseshell caught my eye right by the fringe of the braided rug. I marched right over and scooped up a smooth guitar pick nearly half the size of my torso! Testing its edge, I tapped it against the varnished leg of the armchair, and it answered back with the crispest, sunniest little click. Why, that rhythm sounded like the start of a brand new song just itching to be written. I dusted off the edges and tucked the pick securely under my arm to keep as my very own pocket rhythm section.