I wish I could stay
But there is only games being played
The games by the children that scatter around you
The little tip-tap of the drums
Or the crash of the symbols
Some stops of the feet
But what you find most intriguing
Is the one boy
The boy in the corner
Who sits as the others run around
But he has something the others don’t
The guitar
He sat as the chords flowed through his fingertips
Like wind on a sunny day
He would gracefully let out a hum or two
But it was in the guitar
Every time he would look up
You could see his soulful blue eyes
The eyes of the ones that had passed him this gift
The God that had made the greats to make a great
You could see him starring in disbelief
Someone actually listening to only a few strums
Then he would look back down at the guitar
And play
But I can no longer stay
The noises from the other children give me migraines
I can’t handle the pressure anymore
I must leave
