I feel like I’ve been silent longer than a week, but I have not. Thanks for your continued readership. For your reading pleasure today, a poem inspired by a guitarist in my favorite band.
He steps on stage, unaware
Of the affect of his music on my soul.
His fingers caress the strings,
Sounds only angels have heard.
As the song intensifies,
his fingers move faster and faster
and with a different type of intensity.
Long toned digits moving with a flourish
only time can bestow.
He plays on and on, glancing occasionally
In my direction.
He knows nothing of the affect of his music on my soul.
The music surges
and his hands weave a spell
on the strings of his guitar
and he knows nothing
of the affect of his music
on my soul.