May 13, 2013

His Instrument

This image courtesy of F3D3.86 via Flickr Creative Commons
This image courtesy of F3D3.86 via Flickr Creative Commons



realizing after it's too late, 
i had stood, unclothed for him
to inspect my life, reasons, my soul
he had listened, responded in a way
i mistook for sharing, when i learned nothing of him
a year had almost come and gone
his past and present laid out before me
were nothing more than anyone knew of him
i stopped sharing then, not out of spite
yearning to learn more, to know this man
as i silenced my own need to open up
i heard in his songs he had written
the way his fingers could gently play the piano
or strum his guitar, i watched his lips move
studied his eyes as he played for me
little pieces of his life unfolded in front of me
making me long for him to know a different part of me
the lonesome sounds when he sang 'So Alone'
dark eyes shining with need as he placed his guitar aside
bringing tears to my eyes 
how tenderly he could touch me 
become one with me, looking at me with the same passion
that burned in his gaze when his fingers touched
his instruments

@ donetta sifford 5-13-2013


7 comments:

  1. I've heard that's the difficulty in being involved with musicians or artists. Their real love is their craft. Any person plays second fiddle, one might say.
    Well written and truthful.

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  2. nice...really great write...sometimes we can not find words for our own story...or we keep them...i like that in just watching him you gathered much more of his story...its funny too how often artists are that way as well...

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  3. That is such a lovely story of a journey LM x

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  4. This is truly beautiful. Thanks for sharing.

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  5. You've captured the music, so moving. Well done!

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  6. Really lovely job capturing the way we can learn about someone in ways that transcend conversation.

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