Poetry

The Guitarist

I entered the quaint little bar at the end of the lane,
Filled with the overpowering smell of beer and caffeine.
I find an empty chair and sit there.
That when I realized the sound of a guitar floating in the air.
I looked around and found no one.
Just then the tune changed "You are my sun".
I closed my eyes and floated with the song.
But that flight didn't take very long;
I opened my eyes to the creaking sound,
A chair being dragged on the concrete ground.
A lad cute and some 5.5 feet tall:
His hair-the colour of leaves during fall.
On his wrist was a Nike band,
And he was holding a Gibson guitar in his hand.
I immediately understood he was the guitarist.
His eyes were the colour of a dark night during mist.
He flashed me a smile and said "Hey!"
Oh my God, his smile just made my day.
I struggled and let out a hesitant hi.
Oh my eye, magnify!
I remember that face from somewhere-
A latest dream or a country fair?
We started talking.....
Blah blahing and woof woofing.
He told me his name was Drake,
And my heart slid to a brake.
Is this the same Drake from High School?
Cause he bullied me and often made me look like a fool.
His eyes read mine and he asked me "Is that you Joy?"
I nodded my head and let out a sigh.
He smiled again and I asked "What?"
"Nothing. You've changed and look at the new hair colour you've got."
And we talked again, blah blahed and woof woofed.
At a point I asked "You were a bully right?" and away he looked.
I could see hurt in his face from the corner of my eye.
He said "I know and I'm sorry Joy"
This apology I have waited for so long;
Came from the guitarist but not in a song.
I could not help but get trapped under his spell.
With a heavy heart, atlast we bid each other farewell.
Both of us knowing it wasn't our first hi,
And certainly not our last goodbye.