The Singing Strings

I scurried back from the park, squeezing under the garden gate and through the cracked patio door just as the streetlamps lit up the dusk! In the quiet corner of the living room, a wooden acoustic guitar rested on its low floor stand. Boing, scramble! I bounced right onto the polished soundboard. Right over the round, shadowy soundhole stretched six taut metal strings! I bunched my squishy base and gave a breathless little hop—twang-thrummm! The thickest brass string dipped and buzzed beneath me. A deep, velvety chord echoed up from the dark hollow inside the wood, sending a delicious, tickly vibration humming straight through all my soft rubber spikes! I wobbled in pure glee, letting the warm resonance sing me to sleep.