The Guitar

I see she’s sitting there.

She’s softly strumming her guitar.

Who needs applause?

I thought I’d lend a hand.

And still she's sitting there

And sudden seems her stroke did pause.

Says she she’s got it down.

Says that she don’t need a man.

I see the heaven’s break . . .

Dance on the dainty of her wrist

And all the rains and thunder

Kneel themselves to pray.

And still she sits . . . right there,

Beneath the shadow of a kiss;

Beneath the brimming of the music

In the dawn.

I saw her sitting there

And all the world’s a silent moan.

She lit one final chord

And then the music's gone.