Before I Sleep

     

         He has played multiple gigs. He plays at multiple gigs. But unfortunately, I've never seen him play at one. So today, I pictured him playing at a gig. In my head. He's described it numerous times; the way his eyes close intently as he croons to one of his own covers, the way his fingers smoothly glide over the strings, and the favorite black hat he likes to wear. It just wasn't enough. Not anymore. 

So, I sat myself down today and as I let the wonderful aroma of filter coffee transform me to a different world; I closed my eyes, and I truly pictured him playing at a gig. And let me tell you, it was magical. No, it was mystical. The background noise slowly started to fade away, the hustle and bustle of the city seemed non-existent and I could hear the notes from a distant song. His rather tall frame on the bar stool seemed tailor made for him, the way his knee curved slightly-so seemed to make him look almost regal. The words rolled off his tongue, saddened to be leaving, his lips curled to let go of them carefully. His eyes were closed in fervor, as if in prayer, as he sang in the most raw, sensual voice my ears have ever been exposed to. His favorite guitar melded into his body as if it were just a mere extension of it and nothing more. His hands held the guitar like he was born with it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers glided over the strings, strumming them so effortlessly, it was living art in its purest, most spiritual form. Even the typical musician's hat he had on that was ever so slightly tipped to the right was picture perfect. It was as if all the Musician Gods had conspired to make this very moment happen. This. Beautiful. Moment. Right. Here. If Only, I could take this beautiful moment out of my head, out of my pen, out of my paper and in to my Life :)