He was the man with a brown guitar
who sang about love.
She was his lone audience
with a wine glass in her hand.
His slender fingers tuned the guitar,
as he began a song that was on her mind.
With the sound of his guitar and the wine,
she drowned the grief that she carried in her heart....
The shadows grew longer,
the sky turned an orange hue.
Her glass needed a refill,
He needed a song.
"One more time," she whispered,
as he smiled at her across the table....
When the night fell upon the city
and when the room was flooded by starlight,
she shut her eyes and forced a yawn.
"I am tired," said she.
"Just this one," said he.....
She slept to the sound of his guitar,
his song making love to her mind,
to the tune she had heard over a million times.
She dreamed about the lush green meadow atop a silent hill,
And there she saw him standing,
he was hard to miss-
The man with the brown guitar.
