TILED FLOORS, CONCRETE DREAMS

He sat there his instrument in hand

Carefully strumming his guitar.

Everywhere you look is entertainment

Everywhere you look is a crowd.

He sat there playing his guitar

Strumming strings and playing chords.

His words drowned out

But by the applause of those not his.

He sat there strumming his song

His fingers about to go numb.

And yet all the while, he thinks

I know one day, someone would notice

I know someone will.


For months on end he sat there –

at his sidewalk spot

Strumming. Playing. Hoping.

Praying. Waiting. Desperate.

Then a little boy happened to pass by and listened

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And as the nickel dropped onto his case, he smiled

Yes. This is the beginning. 

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