a small guitar

we were listening
to a small guitar
playing in the distance
but not so very far
away we could not hear it
as we moved as one
feeling the pleasure, treasuring
the touch of the morning sun
as the voices were so far away
we knew we were alone
and we never thought of tomorrow
or even answering the phone
we were listening
to a small guitar
as it played
and we played
our own music
that lingered beyond
the touch of the guitarista's fingers
and we were music


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.