The steady strum of a guitar in the distance. It’s a lively melody, compatible with the autumn as the leaves around you jump around with the wind and scrape across the ground with a tireless crinkling around. There is life with the music you make. Swaying trees, whispering winds, cooling temperatures and the quiet lapping of the river against its banks are in sync. Brown, green, yellow, orange and red light up the day with a still bliss that cuts deep into my soul, calming my eyes with a pleasurable feature I choose to focus on. The solitude is only broken by euphony. Emotions swirl between the music dancing around your fingertips and the spirit within your bright eyes.
The loose leaves coalesce around you as though you are the star. They are drawn to the lovely sound of the trembling strings against your slender fingers. I watch your fingertips brush against my heartstrings tenderly; my heart is also dancing with joy. I feel exhilarated with the songs humming from your wooden partner. An emotion firm but soft. It is the vibration of the string from every contact that captivates me; the energy from your fingers, the subtle shifts of your body, the the strength in your smile and the fervour in your melody that draws me in. It is the dexterity within your knowing hands and the tousled strands of hair that fascinates me. There is a clarity within your eyes and an understanding deep in your mind. You sing out loud the thumping of your heartbeat which soothes and flutters. You play with the passion of the waters that rush down the rapids. You create a poem mid-melody when there are pauses too long for time to bear between us.
I desire so much more. I count the number of breaths you take like the clocks count the seconds and I count the number of beats within your soul like the lively thump of your heart; the time that draws longer with each bar and the distance between each stanza. I walk with the diminuendo towards a twilit meadow scattered with the traces of decaying remains fallen from the trees of love and life. I hear the crunch of lost leaves and broken twigs beneath my feet and I mouth the unheard lyrics of the song you were yearning for. The energy seeps from the sounds in the air and dissolves into the rising moon without a trace. Very soon, it becomes a seclude with the icy air stinging against my face. The wind blows against my tresses and ruffles your hair lazing tiredly against your face. The stillness screams louder than your melodies and lengthens the number of steps between us. Me and you.
There are twenty breaths and eight steps between our gazes. There is the universe between our fates. There is a meadow beneath our statues. The air is hollow and the atmosphere is frigid; we don’t stand much taller than the tips of the blades of grass yearning for the quavering of your music. Yet, I can go no closer than the smallest distance that can separate us into two entities; the metres that push me away from where you sit on the log and the millimetres that cause us to stumble between our fears and our touches.
You strum on till a ritenuto when darkness envelops our world and I glow brighter than the sun in the day. The twinkling stars illuminating the clear night sky cannot compare to the shining strings of your polished guitar and the sparkle lying within our eyes. Our gaze is more electrifying than lightning and it bites into my heart sharper than the crisp cool air causing my skin to tingle. There is nothing but the silent melody singing throughout the night.