You strummed those strings
with your little piece of plastic
and sang words
I’d never heard together before
from your short wooden stool
set atop the stage.
Your voice–
it was pure magic
coming through that mic.

You couldn’t see me
in the dimly lit corner–
but I was there
among the silent and equally awed.

I was there
soaking up every sound
and every caress you gave
that guitar,
trying to figure out
how I had gone so long
without seeing
just how beautiful you are.

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