Guitar Girl

She speaks to angels.
Her voice is soft, like a whisper of harps,
And her mane, a voluminous flower,
A wild fire sheltering
Her sapphire eyes,
            Lids pressed shut,

Her head
            Bowed in reverie,
Like a saint in prayer.

I fall in love

With the girl that speaks to angels
Her hands, strong
Hold her weapon by the nape - safe -
Like a mother to a child,
The wood stripped naked –
A virgin awaiting the touch. 

I fall in love again

As her fingers trace sharp steel,
Swift, like grass tips
Or the rivulets of a river

When grazed by the shiver
Of the morning breeze.

And the strings, disciples, dutiful and obedient,
Respond to her caress, like lips respond to kisses.

I fall in love again

With the girl with ocean eyes
Who mingles with the angels.
I search for her in every strum,

Listen for her soul in every psalm of her guitar,
Like a star in lost light.

And I fall in love again.