he cradles his
guitar, like a
tiny newborn baby, and
lets the song tell his story.

he starts out playing
softly, the
beginning of the song
shrouded in mystery,
the next note unknown.

but the best musicians can
guess the next chord from
the previous one, and
usually they’re right.

he continues to play, the song
building to a crescendo, the
middle of the song where
all the emotions lie and
all the intensity happens; it’s
what is important, it’s
what makes it all worthwhile;
the end only being
realization.

and so he plays the song,
his eyes fixed on his
guitar that he calls sally, his
fingers brush over the strings as if
he were touching a lover.

he gives himself to the music, and
becomes one with it; lost
in a world all his own, a
world he created to
escape.

he strikes each chord, knowing that
every note counts, and
he might hit some wrong notes but
all that really matters is
how he plays the song.

so he plays to the best
of his ability, as if
it were his life, allowing
all his life to come out-
all the love, all the pain,
all the hope,
it’s all there, everything, and
he pours out his soul, and
lets it spill out in the melody.

it took him so long to
learn this song, but
now that he knows it
by heart, he
can’t forget it.

he’s only given the
chords, but
it’s up to him to play the song, but
once he knows it, he
won’t let the song escape from him.

and i, mesmerized, am struck by the
realization that life is a
song, and
love is a song, can only
gaze in awe, hypnotized.

my battered heart lives only
waiting for this single song,
knowing that some songs end
too soon while
some songs play over and over again.

and he cradles me in his
arms, and sings
“we’re just like jack and sally...”

...i am sally.