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.