The simple strings draw me in.
Hearing the low drawl of the everyman,
settled behind the microphone.
Sitting there, high in stature.
Telling the story we all understand.
There is a dark smoke all around,
filling the air with stark emotion.
Liquid fire to douse the pain
of living what we see
are lined all over Mr. Bluesman’s face.
Words resonate to all of us
from his mouth and stringed instrument.
A bourbon adds to the confessional
about the pain and sorrow
that needs healing in the sermon.
Honesty and sincerity in his voice
knows all of our feelings
and we rejoice in his words
as Mr. Bluesman plays our story.
© 2014 Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2014