GUITARIST

Uncreasing smooth warm perspiration behind the guitar
Clear  far-resounding voice making waves wetly in the brilliant deep eyes
Pure sweet sadness  tightens reluctance madly
That instant, one day, will be some small dropped gold silks

The guitarist  leads the way to the fond old past
Harmonious moment trembles soft lips
Bobbing vague, floating marks at the doorway
Shed tears silently filling with emotion

He brought the song at brutal mid-night
Tottering guitar carrying the sound of hard rain
Burst out ebulliently overflowing violet memories
We should be happy not to be sad, if you see

Guitar’s sounds flow around soothing the solitary soul
Trilling into the sky whilst love vanishes in fate
That our affections would exist in the moon
No separation, as the melodious voice clotted with the guitar’s sound