He walks into the room,
And I'm deprived of my speech
What a beautiful creation,
His hair is curly and brown
It cascades around his face
He's wearing sunglasses
Even though its late at night
His guitars are on the stage,
Almost as beautiful as he
I can't remove my eyes from
The splendor of his form
And as he begins to strum
I'm taken captive by his grace
With each bridge he plays,
I'm falling more and more
His fingers glide across the frets
And I'm utterly amazed
He's passionate about his music
I can tell by how he moves
The miracle guitar player
A musician at its finest
I wish that I were so graceful
So free, and expressive
Instead I'll just keep watching
The angel as he performs.