A small smile playing at your lips,
Strong chords resonating from within.
Melodies poured out from your fingertips,
Your intense blue eyes,
Sparking when you find a song that fits.
Notes being plucked straight from your heart,
Your golden hair catching in the light.
A bout of mischief rolling off your tongue,
Words being transformed out of notes alone.
The haunting sounds of your soul,
Being drawn out carefully.
No room for mistakes,
No time for redundancy.
Your calloused fingers caressing the frets,
Like you would an old book;
With the love and affection, it deserves.
The wind carrying your story across the world,
Your lip curls up as it falls into place,
Life unfolding before your very eyes.
What sorcery you must have,
To be able to trap the raging wind,
In a story of your haunting existence.
Oh to be a boy with a guitar in an all too loud world.

Alanna Gray is 19 years old and has been writing since she was handed a pencil. She loves reading, and photography is also another big hobby of hers.