The Guitar Man: The night before I met you.

           The night before I met you I met the guitar man, he told stories of his younger self in sweet music, he sang of happiness and nostalgia all at once. The guitar man warns you of a sad ending to a happy start; a confusious state to which I couldn't relate,  but yet I sang, I sang along . I sang the melodies with the guitar man, melodies of tunes that were memories of him and her; that once were but will never be again.

 He was the guitar man. 

         He sang of horses and sunset; of morning and roses but in the evening the mood fell and the feeling of loneliness and lusting crave sweep the air. Never have  I imagined but we cried as he played "Her Hair" the softness and purity in his voice made me wonder how can someone be so heartless to the guitar man. I began to wonder  as Robert Frost did -will the world end in fire or ice? but for the lonely singer tonight it was clear it ended in ice; for his youth was gone; still  each night he replayed years that could not be returned,  un-repairable feelings that were still plaguing his mind-skillfully captured with each stroke of his fingers under the moonlight.

         I wondered as I listened each night, he never played for tips, he never spoke to his audience, but his music was lit and his emotions strong. As he played his last song of Angels and Flames I wondered how long I was lost in his chant, to leave now was impossible because I loved this last one. I listened and  my ears was set on fire and my spirit burned to ashes that quickly re flamed;  I Listened how he fought for the possession of his last companion without success.

        Secretly my soul have searched for such talent without the sorrows of a broken heart, but none could I find. My heart bleed within me as the song came to an end for such life I got from such a sad melancholy tune was sweet and pure. 

Then as I turned to walk away I saw you standing there, there was nothing natural about the way you looked at me, the way your eye lit as I walked away. I remember your voice as you spoke to me     "ma'am you dropped your purse" little did I know that my muscles became completely relaxed after seeing your body glistened in the moonlight that I quickly forgot I was holding a purse. As I turned to meet your gaze I became your instrument and you the master, we were connected along wires we never knew existed. That night I was in need of a savior for tomorrow I would be listening and searching to the tunes played by the guitar man.

By

Judian N. Watson