#Poem The Guitar Man Who Made Me Cry: Fiza Pathan

It was a time long ago before I knew about the blood flowing through my veins,
That was the day a man made me cry my wet drops down my cheeks.
I remember he was a guitar man who turned on his girls with a tune,
But this musician strummed my feelings into motion with his rifts.
I sat next to him on the college bench as he kept up the beat of the class,
And that was when the music got to me and I began to cry out a song.
That song fired in me a love for the blues and I got myself singing along,
I wept on his shoulder as he changed his song and kissed my hand.
There were many of us there with flowers, guitars and mouthorgans,
Our tunes went on into the lateness of the evening which made it all pretty.
I did not know how to string up a song for that special moment of joy,
But the blood surging in flood with glee in my heart said it’s going to be great.
The man with the guitar then got his girl to kiss him before he drank his beer,
She obliged him for his music had seduced her into companion forever.
I sang with the others as I smelled out the scent of the roses of another song,
And my heart was glad as I knew that everything was going to be all right.
He was not done with us yet so he played out more of his songs as we all sighed,
That was the time when I clapped my hands mesmerized by the heavenly beat.
I knew that this is the place where I belonged and the people were my own,
But still as the guitar man kissed his girl again I recalled of days long gone.
About my youth and a boy I loved before I met the guitar man,
And how we used to bore into each other’s eyes with music in the background.
This was the same music I was hearing that the guitar man was strumming,
He plucked at his strings and it felt he was plucking out my heart for all to see.
But I didn’t care as the day turned into the night as long as I had my friends,
Our smiles melted our tears of past misunderstanding gone away.
The guitar man made me cry and kissed my hand to signal to my soul,
That life was infinite and so there was no need to hurry along the misty road.
Instead we drew closer as the song hit us with a spell of wonder,
The guitar man made me weep my anxiety away with a passion for peace.
He said that he would sing me a tune about how he found me sitting by him,
Waiting for another sea wave of destiny to hit me before I could surf it out.
The guitar man said I was good enough and so I shyly smiled at him,
I sang along with the others who smelled their own blossoms.
This is my heaven near the guitar man and his friends on our college steps,
A man whose eyes I could drown my voice into a dead silence happily.
I hope that one day I’ll meet him and his group again sometime in the future,
The day I ascend with his song in my heart to a heaven of a strumming guitar.
Copyright ©2016 Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/835473