You

You think that soaking your guitar in the sun will warm your music,

You sit outside and bask in the heat of your talent

You flick the strings like they are six women needing to be kept in line and

You are the one to control them.

You never catch me watching your face as it twitches with concentration.

You mutter silent words, your eyes half closed as if

You are touching sleep.

You moan that the strings are getting soft but we all know

You have melted them like

You do with so many other things.

You have a voice that made me fall in love with

You. Sounding like

You have left it to dry in the sun where

You once propped your guitar.

Reviews

[Kayla]

Wow!! LOVE this!