I sit on her bed, gazing at her adoringly,
lean my face in my hand;
she plays that instrument,
plucking every subtle note with ease,
I stare, her not minding otherwise,
as she continues,
the  guitar not worthy of her delicate fingers,
playing a melody that speaks of truth
of experience
and of much, much more;
speaks of her life, gains and losses
although gains were few...

I just sit there,
idiotic as it may seem,
just enjoying her endeavors
explained in song, as if in a trance.
Lights dance, sparks fly
as she carreses her guitars neck,
and plucks the strings,
to and from,

A reminder of how great she is
and also how great she thinks I am,
how she rolls with the punches and finishes the battle,
how she pulls through the deepest Hell,
and comes back stronger
How I love her...

And How She Loves Me

Jaqueline Boring,

Love is too 'Boring" of a word to describe my deepest feelings for you