Muse's Little Black Book

I recently moved and have been in the process of unpacking for a little bit now. By a little bit, I mean over a month. I figure why unpack it unless I need it, don't judge. Anyway, during this snail's-pace unpacking I came across a little black leather bound book that I have had for the longest time. Most guys keep phone numbers of ladies in their little black book, but me? Nah, too typical. So what does the Amused Muse keep in his sacred black book? Poetry my friend. Specifically mine. Ironically enough a slip of paper with a girl's number on it fell out of it when I picked it up... That's not here nor there though. So, to commemorate the 100th time I've found my book, I wanted to share a piece from it's hallowed pages. I hope you enjoy it, it's one of my favorites.

Pick, Slide, Hammer and Sway

Muse's Little Black Book

A Smile crossed her lips
As her fingers flicked,
'Cross the strings that were pulled down tight.
In a test of skill,
She'd be best still,
To that there'd be no fight.

At that moment in time
She felt just fine,
As she picked-slid-hammered and swayed.
The music ran far
From the electric guitar,
As she picked-slid-hammered and swayed.

With her eyelids down
Her passion was found,
And she played like a thunder roll.
With her knees apart
She played from the heart,
The music was taking it's toll.

My toes were tapping
And my hands were clapping,
If only the rest could see.
Her whole song
Was only seconds long,
But it seemed like years to me.

I watched her hands
As she plucked the strands,
And the music flowed from her soul.
At that moment in time
I felt just fine,
'Cuz that music had made me whole.

When the end drew near
I still longed to hear,
When she picked-slid-hammered and swayed.
So I guess I'll stay
Until that day,
When you'll pick-slide-hammer and sway.