The old guitarist is so weary
As he sits there old and spent
But his fingers keep on strumming
The old guitar, as he is bent
On playing the tune that haunts him
In his every waking hour
The melody that floats from his instrument
Has the lingering fragrance of a flower
He can barely sit upright
He back is gnarled and twisted
But he has to keep on playing
Even though at times he's resisted
For somewhere his love may hear it
It might find her waiting ears
And she will know he's thought of her
Throughout these many years
And so he strums and plays a love song
For one no longer here
With his fingers aching
With his eyes that shed a tear
As long as there is breath in him
The strumming will go on
The sobbing in his heart will pain
For her who has gone beyond
He longs for death to take him
Waits for the fluttering of the Archangels wings
So that they will be reunited
Together once more to renew the things
That are tattooed in his memory
The luscious lips, that lovely smile
He wonders how much longer he will play
How much longer is awhile
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Comments: 56
Flowing lovely words from your heart
Your article is Featured in the Triple Name Club.
You captured some great nuances; and the picture fits the poem so well.
Thank you for posting this.
Has the lingering fragrance of a flower..."
You never cease to amaze me, Elsie. This was gorgeous...
I enjoyed its bittersweet tone very much. A pleasure as always for me.
True loves can last forever and, best of all, when he meets her again he'll be the handsome young man and she, the young woman with a smile in her eyes.
have so deftly penned for that old man with the guitar just
waiting for the end.
this is lovely..natch!