For Nini, Happy Birthday =D
The moonlight coming through the window shone on the figure of a man. His body was swaying to the tune of his guitar. His fingers caressed the strings like a lover would. And they sang for him, a deep rumbling chord.
The man moans a song about the woman who stole his heart.
Before him sits a girl, and she is in rapture. Caught up in the wail of the Fender, she is trapped in a world where the Blues fill the air, a world of lost lovers and a sad pain.
She is in rapture.
The man plays and the girl writhes. This is how it should be, this is the world made right. And in the music they share their souls, let loose to ride on the notes from the guitar.
The song ends, and the man and girl slump forward as if their very souls were burnt to the core. All energy, gone but the deep twang and whine of the strings hangs in the air. Lifting them to the world they sought all their lives. Giving them peace.
Freedom, at last.
The man moans a song about the woman who stole his heart.
Before him sits a girl, and she is in rapture. Caught up in the wail of the Fender, she is trapped in a world where the Blues fill the air, a world of lost lovers and a sad pain.
She is in rapture.
The man plays and the girl writhes. This is how it should be, this is the world made right. And in the music they share their souls, let loose to ride on the notes from the guitar.
The song ends, and the man and girl slump forward as if their very souls were burnt to the core. All energy, gone but the deep twang and whine of the strings hangs in the air. Lifting them to the world they sought all their lives. Giving them peace.
Freedom, at last.