Cinzas

'Play the Cinzas!
One more time for us!'
The mob shouted in chorus
To the man sitting on stool,
He had his guitar hanging cool
And the fretboard glistened under the spot,

'Hey! Play the Cinzas
One more time for us!'

Their cry reached his ears
And he lumbered back to those years
Kept in chambers of his heart
Under the thick layer of dust,

He picked up the tune
Washed it under the drops of rain
And blew a whiff of air to clean
Little ribs till they gleamed,

Cinzas , he did begin
like little waves slow
That one another follow,
Under the glittering sky,

Cinzas, he made to fly
From the copper strings
To make the whole bunch
Sobered and filled to the brim,

How many minutes it did last
He had no idea just-
It seemed the parlour had turned
Into a pool of water that drowned
All the cries of the outside world,

Cinzas , he unfurled
One time more
Cinzas, he spread
Till it poured.