Vignettes of a Guitarist

As the guitar strikes

And we enjoy its dulcet tunes,

My mind wanders someplace else, slowly jamming.

Flowers and a lone tippet,

The vague sky and a dim visage,

Feathery birds caged on the top, softly cooing.

Soft strums fill the air

And a faint noise stirs and hides

The way does a little child, lowly humming.

Things I thought in the dark,

Taught to people in a delirium

Kindle a melancholy tune, gently whirring.

Beseeching a soul to temper,

A heart to render mellow and warm

The guitar plays on in a loop, too stubborn and sweet.

Saeeb Rahman Samin is a student at Notre Dame College, Dhaka.