ROLANDO

twilight conceals the mountains
with cobalt duskiness
blue gas flame flickers
in the white brick fireplace

his slender fingers
coax melodies from his guitar,
caress the strings
as a lover strokes the softness
of his woman’s torso

he switches between jazz,
classical and folk
with earnest concentration
he accompanies the music 
with harmonizing whistles

we sings snatches of 
half-forgotten songs,
hum when we cannot remember

a hush of quiet contentment
falls over us, mesmerized 
by the spell of the musician,
and renewed friendships