The fingers glide softly over the strings
Tuning and listening
For a hidden note
They strum a chord and pause
His eyes open sparkling with an inner light
He bends himself over the guitar
Holding it like a child
Then the foot comes to life tapping a rhythm
Out pours his soul, his heart, everything he is
It all goes into the song.
I sit there entranced, listening
He stops and asks, “Was it any good?”
I stare and softly say yes
He smiles and bends over the guitar and begins to play again.
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Black and White, and the millions shades of gray in between
This journal is mostly for me to post my poems, and an occasional free write. Probably the theme of this journal will be the differences between how people view black and white, good and evil.
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SilverLaughter
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