There’s something about the feel
Of the strings beneath my fingers
That allows me to forget the world,
Even for just a minute.
Tucked behind the smooth,
Glistening spruce body,
I feel myself let go.
I let the chords wash over me,
The notes ring through the air
In such an ornate order,
I feel as though nothing could go wrong.
Standing on the worn black stage
Of the high school auditorium,
Washed in the warm glow
Of the spotlight,
I take a breath.
In this moment,
I feel as though I’ve been born again,
The guitar I’m holding
Is an extension of my newly formed body.
This is someone I have not yet had the pleasure
As my fingers begin to play
The familiar tune,
She’s been hiding inside of me all along,
Waiting patiently for her chance
To be set