I'm a writer, a poet, a dreamer. Born and raised in New York City. I now live in Daytona Beach, Florida. .
He sat softly strumming his guitar,
stroking the strings,
as the notes fell like stars,
upon his being so very lonely,
thinking about the girl -
who had broken his heart.
She had come like a lovely surprise,
unexpected and an absolute delight.
Then just as suddenly,
this girl had stolen his heart
and taken it with her when she went away.
He had but two things in this world,
which he treasured the most,
they were his heart and his guitar
and so here he sat,
his guitar weeping sad and all alone.
He wrote the greatest love songs,
but couldn’t find a love of his own
and it brought a little smile,
as he kept right on strumming,
sweet accords like mellow wine.
He so longed for a love,
who would be just content,
to love a song writer,
who would sing all of his love songs,
just for her
and she’d be content to sit and listen,
dreaming wonderful dreams of a love so true.
He kept on playing all the day long
and as the sun sank low,
the purple twilight came,
with a melancholy sadness all its own.
The music soon made the aching much less,
perhaps tomorrow he’d find a new love
and his heart would be whole again.
© 2018 Gypsy Rose Lee