The Hands That Guitar

Tiny droplets rain on me on the blooming fields,
As I merrily danced with the kissing tulips;
The graceful rays of the rainbow shield,
These small fingers that yield loving grips;

I felt one with this worldly land,
No other's touch can move me;
The sound of guitar strings heard grand,
Swam into this field of unbroken dreams;

I slept a second through the hustling of the serenading wind,
The hurly burly of the bustled city unfelt;
I'm loved with the world and one with him,
No other plucks the guitar, it can't be stealth;

We'd make a nostalgic music along these steps,
Side by side, we held hands;
Not even the butterflies or little specks,
Made seeming spectra for what him and I have;

The sun shines at six minutes to three,
As we went to the spacious front porch;
His songs still set us free,
As he strums towards our main door-
The hands that guitar.