The Guitar Player
Guitar Player

Light from an unseen window falls
across her face, while she looks up
at someone she knows who’s just come in.
Her fingers pluck a small guitar.
Behind her head, a landscape. Fur
trims her golden gown. Unopened books
are piled off to her left –
                                       and she’s
been caught like this for centuries,
where all our sunlit moments are.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any comments on this poem,  Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear from you.