Unfinished

One hot and humid, lazy afternoon, two years before today

By the side of a forgotten, dust-laden road somewhere down south

A house of glass…I remember

 In the middle of that cluttered room you sat

That old guitar resting contentedly against your body

You were lightly strumming, plucking at the strings

The strains of a song (I still remember which) 

Floating through that hot and humid air

And it sifted through...

Past the corridor...

To the other room…

Where she was…

And she was drawn to you.

As though in a trance, she followed

Past the corridor...

To where you were...

Sitting in the middle of that cluttered room with your old guitar

And I remember

How it became then

From the bongos, to the shakers

By the side of that forgotten, dust-laden road

Outside the house of glass

It was music that flowed between the two of you

Through your fingers as you strummed your old guitar

Past her lips as she sang in tune with you

Within the words and laughter

Over and under a few awkward moments

Beyond every casual glimpse or glance

There was music

And it flowed

Like a fine, silver string

And she was drawn to you.

I remember…one night, 

You ran with her in the rain

No umbrella...just your handkerchief

Drying her off…

Do you remember? 

It was there, still. 

A month’s worth…

And like every song, it had to end. 

Do you remember, 

You rode with her on that last night

She wished the road would stretch on and on

But then you had to go

And I remember she was torn

It was two years before today

She had carried on

You trudged along on your own path

There were times when your roads would cross

And though only fleetingly, a longing would pass…

And for a brief moment it all comes back

And you both knew then

It was there, still.

And so I come to the now

How weeks and weeks ago

You came back to her

And, how, inspite of herself

She ushered you in

She was drawn to you again. 

Then, like two years before today

There was music once more

So, it is not without great wonderment that I close this chapter. 

For no sooner than when it began

You slip past her fingers for yet a second time

With nothing short of an explanation

Nothing close to a promise

And she is left wondering…

Hoping…

For deep inside of her

I know

She is still drawn to you…