The Listener

in a cool, dark room
quiet, tinted blue
a song was click-played
obscure and new.

the listener
anxious to be impressed
did not fully
in the ordeal invest;

with critical ears
and hands of decree
the song stopped too soon

another song
was then given go
as the listener
checked the window,

this one was beautiful
and uplifting of soul
for impatient hands
had left the control.

New Guitar

New guitar,
how long will we play?
Will we be together
on my final day?

A year from now
will we depart,
and give our lives
a jumping start?

Maybe you
will help me meet.
A lovely lady,
graceful and sweet.

Or maybe you’ll
help me compose.
A sterling song,
seed of a rose.

I love life
and I love you.
We are the ones
the mystics drew.

Maybe we’ll tell
a grand old tale,
about how
we set to sail

On a journey
to the now
leaving late, yet
early somehow.

New guitar,
oh, here we go.
Forever each
other we’ll know.

The beginning’s over
but life is new;
the present moment
is never through.