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Poetry
by
M. B. Baldwin



  Guitar Man

His heart cries out
each time he plays
in a minor key,
remembering the way
it tore his spirit
to see her leave.

She walked away saying
she could not compete
with his other loves:
the music, the road, the fast life;
and though he has them still
there is an empty space
that she once filled.

Unlike his calloused fingers
that do not feel the pain
as they press upon the frets
his heart has not yet hardened.




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