It’s about dream of my friend:
Strapped string on wood
is a dream from his childhood.
Musical patterns from string
moved him soon,
on first day of learn.
A desire bloomed
paved the path to learn,
rhythms of string
locked him in serene.
Was compassionately involved
angelic returned,
shadow of evil burned in heart.
It was journey of sea change
which altered him in whole,
a renaissance was happening though.
Wounds were healing
He was actually living
life seemed beautiful than ever,
reluctance, anger melted in him forever.
Sudden shut of Master’s door
burred him under mourn
It was moment of feeble
desire concealed for evermore.
These words came from me after listening to my best friend’s story behind Guitar.
Asmitha 