The invisible trail of fragrance left by your conditioned hair,
The warmth of your embrace in the winter this year.
Your luscious locks where my fingers twirled
Your soft skin where I tightly coiled.
These notes go through my heart as I slide along the frets.
The laughter echoes in cries
What I’d do to pay the cost
Shouldn’t matter anyway when it’s lost.
Image credit – eberhard grossgasteiger