The sound of a guitar holds cool
night air hostage as the notes drift
over the sidewalk below like soft linen
draping the skin, holding tight while retaining
the heat. An easy changing of chords
reminds me of ocean blue days and warm
sand or the aroma of approaching storms.
The music breaks the bonds of dusk, finding
comfort with night and the seasons that
fill the in between.
The sound ends without notice. The air
relinquishes to the empty space. I close
my window until tomorrow evenings
serenade from the guitar somewhere nearby.
Roger Singer 
Swift
LikeLike