Unheard

To make you notice that I breathed air the same as you,
I picked up my chipped red guitar and strummed out a melody,
Notebook by side, jotting down jointed words and phrases,
Nothing profound, nothing remotely revolutionary,
I can’t even claim they came straight from the heart:
The words just became living, breathing things,
Like all magic happens, right at the start.
But they were real. Honest. Laced with meaning.
Seasoned by fears and dusted with hope,
Wrapped up in a plenitude of good intent
And...