THE GUITARIST

The guitarist plays his strings,

to fade loneliness and gloom.
Joy is what his melody brings,
and helps happiness to bloom.

Each eve he sings and plays,
to soften every lover’s heart.
He taps his feet and head sways,
and so he timely does his part.

The chairs, tables and lights,
with time always remain same.
Unhappy with occasional fights,
his marriage was no happy game.

New lovers, now with a new voice,
and his heart, no longer brave.
The helpless strings had no choice,
and he is now silent in his grave.


Prasenjit©1997-2012