Strumming Along

A poem about the beauty of the guitar's music

I can hear his soul,
I can hear his thoughts,
I can hear his vision,
I can hear his sorrow.

While he strums along,
And he bleeds music from his heart,
More than a melody,
It is pure bliss.

I can hear his fear,
I can hear his joy,
I can hear his love,
I can hear his dream.

While he strums along,
And he bleeds music from his heart,
More that a melody,
It is our bliss.

I can hear it all,
So many sounds,
One voice.