The Music

Autumn evening, a choir gathers--
a tendril of song connects
your bass, my alto--
separate notes
but one voice

I slide my eyes your way
listen as your voice rises alone
watch your fingers strum the guitar

my fingers yearn to stop
the strumming, return your touch
to my face, my hair, my body--
remembering entwined evenings

still your voice continues
in tones as silver as your hair--
still the guitar fills the room

you slide your gaze my way
drink in the smile
that makes you smile
feel the heady reminder
of where we find ourselves
in life, in this love

then,
back to the music