A note rings pure, an extra sound,
harmonious intent while sat upon
a ground so warm, so welcoming in fact,
intact, or is it just a pact, nigh-found
'tween Earth and starry Sky, with pantheon
and soothing calm, who gave us which we lacked.

This harmony, we find, what ringing of
a lone guitarist's melody without a worded song
nor voice nor choice of they to whom he may
belong tonight; the sun shall rise above
his eyes tomorrow, such a sun so long-
ensuring us the coming light of day.

Yet still, tonight, this ghostly note that plays
from our belov'd guitarist's starlit tune
upon a beach abandon'd save for him,
just whence this ghostly note so ricochets
above his nylon strings, perhaps the moon
alone could say, with haste so growing dim.

Our friends, musician and his serenade,
enjoined in choral bliss with such a note
unknown in place or time, its origin
unseen, and yet so welcomingly played
for him alone and for the yet-unwrote
to come, confirming beauty with its din.

06/15/2013

Author's Note: This one's dedicated to my excellent friend Alexia, as she was there when I wrote it, and partially inspired me along the way.

Posted on 06/15/2013
Copyright © 2024 Kourosh Taheri-Golvarzi