Instrumentalist at Heart
You rest softly on my lap
our bodies melding
instantaneously. Love
is what some might
call it. I testify to more.
Fingers touch cool metal
gently turning as I lean in
listening for excellence
and find this to be the only
beauty in perfection.
With the smallest touch
you vibrate in answer to
my indefinite questions
about life, love, loss.
You gave voice to my
very soul. You’re
no guitar, you’re a
portal, a friend, a
partner, a guide.
I have found my voice,
but am still an
instrumentalist
at heart.
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