LEFT MY GUITAR

unable to sleep with the night slowly closing in
I am taken back as I look out a glass windowed pane
feeling so solemn in a vigil anonymous, it begins

needing to coax my mind, I struggle with the strain
looking for inspiration or an intervention, that will light my way
whatever it takes, to make lighting strike, and heal this pain

without the perfect words, I struggle, lost feelings lay there
for I have nothing more to give, what more is there to say
so I, left my guitar sitting silent, un-played, there by the stair  

within a night, under a canvas painted sky littered flecks of gold
I am swept, cold air gripped, standing here to stare, made aware
throughout the heavens, the stars are dotted like fireflies, to behold

ready to come clean, get back from out of this temporary lark
I've reached from deep within finding my way back, my way back
letting my voice rise and speak for itself, and yes, make its mark

In just a few chords, the words gradually flow back into a song
ready to play- my finger tips poised, finally feeling the hum
felt deep within, ain't no surprise, it happens as I begin to strum

picking up from where I left my guitar- having the words to share
blended with perfect harmonies I lacked; with more of me to give
my voice backed up, by heart and soul, I still have living to live

By Michael Perry