::While my guitar gently weeps::

Memories of yesterdays,
whisper softly,
tingling like a
waft of familiar fragrance
lost in timeless space.
The songs we composed
for long winding road
remained unsung,
-smeared –
on lifeless paper.

The solitary night
stitches notes from
-scattered rhymes-
playing the missing song.

While my guitar gently weeps.
* wrote the poem for a title contest, the title is from one of Beatles songs.
* image courtesy – Google

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