He plucks at strings
Singing with motionless lips,
Pausing to stare
Nowhere as bourbon sips.

She sit by her window
In shadow two floors below,
Trying to catch a mood
To sooth her from her sorrow.

Across the dirty alleyway,
No way to touch her with his fingers,
She slow dances with herself,
In stealth his loving thought lingers.

The strings end their sadness,
Her light fades to darkness,
Another edges into madness.