Static Movement

She sat, a flower child, with guitar propped against knee while sitting on the pavement in front of her house. The forrest-like trees that grew around the cement whistled daintily in the breeze while she picked away at some unknown love song.

Though it encapsulated her and she found herself whisked away to something she knew little of. The strings just felt right beneath her fingers but there was one note always off.

She reached up then neck to twist the keys, trying to find something that worked, something that didn't have the random ringing of a caterwauling cat. It grew off further causing her to grimace.

Then for some indication, she sprung it the other way to hit the perfect pitch and made so cleanly a joining sigh of satisfaction.

She continued melting away the strings and began to hum.

This is hardly how real life goes, you're sitting, waiting, 
wishing for the far off things that never come.
I'd put down all my ammunition, I'd wondered why'd it taken me so long.