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Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Bela Blues

The wrinkled fingers carry years of burden
with all that experience and life still uncertain;
so attaining sustenance became a necessity;
determined to succeed despite the inequities.
Diminutive upon the stool this person sat
with the instrument laid across the person's lap;
though slow and precise each chord was struck
the person displayed an impressive daft touch.
There was no facial expression yet the feeling did ooze,
since from deep within the heart out came the blues.
The guitar cried as if living a life of heartache and despair;
is seemed to talk to us with the sounds that filled the air.
With its melancholy tones and downhearted hues
it was telling us a story that we all can relate to.
Admiring the sounds some would gladly abide
dropping a bill here and there in the box by the curbside;
the person never uttered a word, no not one all day,
on the stool the person sat; just playing the blues away

Copyright by NewLife2008