He holds his guitar

unable to play
All he wishes is to play
Just one song

His hands grip the guitar
Desperately trying to find a rhythm
Day and night he tries
In his cold dark room

Eyes closed
He begins to drift
The guitar in his hands
Everything goes dark

He awakens but in a dream
He holds a solid gold guitar
Sitting on a stool, his fingers stroke the strings

A beautiful song begins to play
He knows it can’t possibly be real
When he wakes, this beautiful song will be gone

Yet he still plays, not wasting a second
The notes mesmerize him
His fingers pluck the cords
Oh so delicately
As if it were a rare diamond

He closes his eyes once more
he begins to drift
Til finally he wakes
It’s no dream, its life