The Guitarist

"I wish...I wish you were here"

Those lines from the past

Comes back to her

Resonating in her inner cast!

The voice of the singer

Takes the girl to the journey

Into the ocean within the self.

She wishes if she were there!

So, after a long lost period,

She was called for strumming,

By the unseen teardrops of the pick,

Which for years and seasons was,

Stuck between the strings of -

Different scales.

I now see this Guitarist,

Seating alone in the middle of the night,

With her instrument in her lap,

Just like the lost child of summer.

Soon, the heaviness of her head,

Bowed down to the dusty guitar,

Her greyed hair fall gently,

Touching the fret - who missed her!

The fingers roll across guitar's neck,

Sweetly making that sound,

Of shifting the chords for the same song.

Oh, girl, you play so well...

"I wish...I wish you were here"