The songs never stopped coming

I took the broken strings
From the old guitar
I used to have from
When you were beside me.
I grabbed some beads
And stringed them,
Then took the guitar strings
And hanged them on my porch ceiling.

Those strings have been useless
Ever since you left,
No songs came,
Only tears.
But now,
Every time there is wind
I hear nature's song playing
In the bumping beads
And I realize
The songs never stopped coming,
It was I
Who wouldn't let them in.