A Dirge to a Piece of My Self.

I hear him sing,
Teazing out a melody,
Strumming his guitar with his fingers
Dancing adroitly between the strings,
Like Naga dancers
Hopping between bamboo poles.


I am so moved
As I watch his form,
One with the guitar,
At peace with the world.

The notes and his voice
Float towards me,
Caressing my soul,
Gathering my emotions
From the forgotten corners of my heart.

So much affection for him
Wells up in me
That I feel as if I have fallen in love
For the duration of the Song.

'In my secret life',
I now tresspass on sentiments
That I can no longer express,
Nor demonstrate towards him.
For they are now rightfully another's.

The Song is over now.

My heart is empty now.

I mourn the death of a piece of my self.

---GST