I watch as my friend plays his guitar

In a room darkened by warmth, with closed eyes,
I lay, my head over a pillow;
My friend sitting beside me;
feeling the cold heat on a Sunday afternoon.
I start to hum a song
And he picks up his guitar
(He got a guitar and he can make it talk)
and begins to play the stringed willow
and flows out vibrant notes in the small room
and he closes his eyes to sing along
and I watch in admiration and tangible happiness
and he sings with peaceful serenity
and his guitar sings along
and he finishes the song with silent joy
and he smiles at me
and I, in tranquility and realization of a kind,
feel his smile, his music
and I close my eyes, again, to watch my friend
play his guitar.

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30 Mar, 2003
for Kshitij, my friend and his guitar
Nod to the boss, Bruce Springsteen