SERENADE

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.

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