"The Troubadour's Love" A 3 part poem
Part 1: The Troubadour
He roamed the streets,
a lonely troubadour.
looking for his love,
with his pen and his guitar.
He would sit sometimes,
and play a song,
hoping to lure her from hiding,
But she never came along.
Only random strangers passed by,
Some would throw a few coins,
a dollar here and there.
But he did not want their money.
He did not want their fare.
If only she would show her face,
just once to see her smile.
If only her heart could be thrown
into his guitar case,
he would keep playing for awhile.
But he could not find her,
no matter how long he played,
no matter where,
so he decided to write,
a poem just with her to share.
He wrote the words so beautifully,
he wrote them tried and true.
And when he was done,
he kissed it adieu.
In hopes that it would find his love,
he set it free into the wind.
It was now in fate's hands
if his love to her it would send.
Part 2: The Music
She sits at a little coffee shop
chatting amongst some friends,
sipping her mocha latte.
This is her favorite place.
It's 2 o'clock on a Sunday.
She had not been here in awhile.
But it was the walk back home
she most looked forward to.
She longed to hear
that sweet guitar tune.
Some talented man with magic fingers
played around the corner or on the next street.
She never knew quite where.
But he didn't miss a beat.
It seemed to come from different places
on different days,
But never anywhere she could see.
He was a mystery.
She often wondered if he even existed,
perhaps it was just her imagination,
making up this beautiful melody,
for it would often get stuck in her head.
It would wake her in the morning,
and keep her awake at night in bed.
But on the walk home today,
she did not hear the guitar play,
but only sounds of people scurrying,
and birds chirping.
The wind blowing in the trees.
She was quite disappointed.
But then she noticed something...
Floating in the wind,
a small envelope
just light enough to take flight.
Miraculously, it landed at her feet.
How odd, she thought as she bent to pick it up.
Maybe it is meant for me.
It had no address and no name,
it was just simply blank.
Curiosity beckoned her to open it
and so she did,
finding a short hand-written letter inside.
It was addressed to "My Love"
a poem that brought tears to her eyes.
But they were tears of joy for
it was signed, "A Lonely Troubadour."
Part 3: The Letter
I have played this song for you
so many times.
And our paths have crossed
not a single time.
But wherever you are
I know you hear my tune.
And I will play it forever
til I find you.
I will play the song
I know you adore,
for I am just...
A Lonely Troubadour.
© 2013 Nikki Wicked