She strokes my soul
like she strokes her guitar,
tenderly, yet firmly
with every note she plays;
my savage beast
is calmed
by her melodic flourishes,
her rhythmic tempo
massaging my every pain.
Right now,
in this moment,
we are one,
though we are surrounded
by hundreds.
And as she takes a bow
to thunderous applause
she absolutely deserves,
I could swear
I catch
her glistening eye
staring back at mine
and I smile,
as I clap my hands
in return.
© 2012 Joseph Powell
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