Poem from about 7 months ago. Scribbled on a magazine tear-out after seeing a man busking on the street with an electric guitar and his sleeping companion, unedited.
Old man and his guitar
Old man and his sleepy black dog
Pouring songs on the concrete lawn
Old hands move and sing
Old man plays his songs
Old man's hands falter and slip
Old man plays on
Throwing his breath to crowds of two
To three, to me
Old man plays his songs
On his black box he makes it cry
From the rusty strings to misty eyes
Old man, he plays for free
Gulp back tears,
Old man, he plays for me,
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