Guitar Man

Eyes shut softly

Evidence of a beautiful crime

Your obsession of

Being on time

Is similar to the one I share

With displaying a rhyme

 

Head tilted

I wonder what she whispers to you

Whatever it is

You recite it exquisitely

 

With some digits

In between some rivets

The others run over

Strings pulled perfectly tight

And out come a sound

That I have yet to discover

Where it comes from

All I know is

My heart is the complementary drum

And this is the one

Thing that calms my nerves

Nerves pulled imperfectly tight

You and your instrument

Make it all right

 

A child of music

Sitting Indian style by the

Guitar Man

Reviews

[.]

well done.
well done..

[...]

This is so wonderful, i really loved your last stanza,
So well written and love the emotions as well.