In Memoriam

First Published October 3, 2016

The recent passing of a dear friend released a rush of memories of good times spent together; among them were periods of impromptu singing as she played her guitar.

This poem, which I wrote about forty years ago, came to mind and will remain a delightful recollection.

Alvera Guitar

Her eyes reach out to stroke its wood,

her smile with fondness warms,

as tenderly she cradles

the guitar within her arms.

Then looking up, her black eyes hold

a distant, pensive gaze,

their depths reflecting secrets

of some past idyllic days.

She moves with ease among the chords,

but not like others play,

as though the strings are hot to touch

and only in her way.

How deft and lithe her fingers pick

their way among the strings!

Then, lifting up her dusky voice,

she sings.

And I could listen all my life

to mellow chords and strings;

combined with words they’re sentiments

that give my spirit wings.

Each tinkling note in turn receives

a sensitive attack;

she plays the strings of life like that

and never once looks back.

Hers is a gift of rare degree—

Doctor of Music by choice—

stitching the wounds of my mind with steel threads,

and healing my soul with her voice.

Doreen Mierau

Comments

What a beautiful tribute. Tears. -Gina Enns

Thanks, Gina. - Doreen Mierau