THE WOOING
The guitar leans
against the wall
it has witnessed
all the rooms
in your life
the fretboard is worn
the strings are frayed and rusted
the machine heads
creak to tune.
You said that sometimes
in the solitary moments
the music
takes you back
but now you
don't play the instrument
you have forgotten
how to play
the songs you listened to
in the bars along the
Champ-Élysées.
So I take this opportunity
to pour the wine
and sing for you
the love songs.
Avie.
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