I still see you Dave, as you shift and merge into the notes you play, becoming the sound itself.
He reached for his guitar and it become a part of him, moulded to his shape, an able extension of his large dexterous hands. He sank back into the cushions and began to strum. It was insistant and hypnotic like a heartbeat, and it soothed him. His eyes took on that familiar far away look, as the music wrapped around him and entered him through his pores. She watched, as the haunting melody became his breathing, and she felt it pick him up and transport him to somewhere that she had never been.
The above piece was written by a very talented writer Singer, who was generous and kind to allow me the privilege of using it here, in memory of Dave. Thank you good friend.