He sits, twenty-six
Alone with his guitar
A wife and kids

A new chord he strums
For a song well worn
Easy to learn

His voice carries it passionately
His one, adult heart
Still burns with a love long lost

The sleeping poet's eyes
Awaken to this symphony
They burn with tears of sympathy

She leans down to reach
And scoop up the rubies on the floor
An accident, one might guess

She picks up the phone
Just to hear his voice again
His face is lost beyond memory

The ring is low and easily missed
He hardly beats the machine
A breath too late, the line is cut

Still he sits, twenty-six
Alone with his guitar
Wife and kids, a dream