Playing guitar in the dark, at least my eyes are closed;
A heart-felt rhythm matches the rain gently falling in the grey.
The grumbling in my soul is quieted,
If not for the grumbling in the sky;
The rain drops steadily beat,
As such, each strum is an attempt to try.
(How subtle the sound must be to raise the dead from his sullen slumber!)
Amateur melodies did not match the Master’s piece;
Be that as it may, my audience the rain was not chased away.
Leon Bahrman
