Strings that lie around my heart are plucked by your guitar,
Memories of dancing in a dim-lit Spanish bar,
Thoughts of tender evenings, and of sultry latin eyes,
Wine, and strumming rhythms under starlit foreign skies.
Watching the flamenco to the sound of castanets,
Gazing in his soulful eyes that promised no regrets,
Wishing it would last forever, knowing it would not,
Your guitar wakes memories I thought were long forgot.
Keep the music playing, so I may re-live the dream,
Wondering what might have been, as flickering candles gleam,
Here I am, with longings stirred by sounds of sunny Spain,
What I'd give to be that girl, and in his arms again!
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