Her hands feel the cold metal strings of the guitar. I see her sitting by the windowsill and I see her mellowed face, with eyes fixated on her instrument, lips moving in silent whispers and eyelashes fluttering pensively.

And then she begins. A voice like the warm comforting summer breeze, swirling gently through the ears, a thing of beauty.

I gaze with absolute wonder. A voice I am accustomed to; yet every time I listen to it, I can feel the shivers down my spine. Breathlessness. Words elude me. All I can do is smile and feel grateful. To be able to hear something like that voice, it’s magical. I close my eyes and let the musical symphonies invade my heart. This simple voice has been my solace. And now that my life is devoid of this sound, her voice, I feel empty. It’s not just because of her heartfelt absence. It’s the voice that I miss more. It hurts to miss it but it’s worth the pain, worth the bittersweet torture.

It’s funny to realize this. But I guess I never really knew that a singular voice and the source from which it emanated could become the reason for my smile and as it turns out now, my sorrow.

So let me stop writing for I can’t go on any further than this. Not today. Let me stop writing. Hopefully, the tears will do the same…


Dedicated to an old friend and someone I’ll always remember.