Left Unsaid
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I like to listen to him sing,
Even if he is just humming along to the cords his fingers play.
He sits so contently with his guitar balanced perfectly on his lap.
He closes his eyes,
And through him God makes beautiful music.
I wonder what he would say if he knew I watched.
And how I love the way the shadows play in his hair.
The way the light catches the mahogany in his eyes.
I wonder if he would look at me differently,
If he knew that I feel encouragement in his smile,
That I feel comfort in his laugh.
I wonder what he would think,
If I told him that everything beautiful,
Was everything I see in him...