He sat there with legs spread,
Knees caressing his instrument,
Right arm around the neck,
Intense eyes directed straight at me
As he took my photo with his cell.

I stood there, captured….
Confident that if I held the
Wood between his thighs,
Ran my fingers across his G string,
Music would reverberate, resound, abound,
Echo delicate touch upon nape of neck,
Touch the nuts and twist the pegs
Until his instrument was finely tuned.

Size was not too large; not too small.
Perfect for what I had in mind,
Rubbed the hard and shiny wood,
Squeeze the waist as we make music,
Polished as the gazing, amazing,
Brazen look upon his face.