He looked obsessed in the portrait.
A pale man with pearl white hair,
staring down at his beige guitar
That shows signs of damage and overuse.
Wanting to learn how to play,
I reached my hand out into the painting.
He grabbed mine with his frail and delicate hands
and pulled me into his world.
He looks as though he had not eaten in decades,
as you can see his strong jawline and bones through skin.
We talked for days before we began our lessons,
and I taught him the purpose of life.
In exchange he taught me how to play the guitar.
Life is like a guitar,
you pluck your strings randomly
and in the end you have a song.