Longing For You

He sat atop the picnic table
In his hands a guitar, he strummed softly.
His gaze fixed only he knows where,
His voice in song, cut through the air.


'Twas a beautiful summers day
The mountains standing in all their glory.
He played, oblivious to all around him,
Unaware of anyone there, his eyes filled,
Down his cheek, trickled a tear.


Who knows what thoughts are on his mind
As peace and hope he sought to find,
Deep in thought and far away,
His voice sang out, the guitar still played.


As he played his thoughts did roam,
He longed for when, he would go home,
I think by now that you can see,
The man I saw, was only me.

Eric Valentine May 1993 ©