at a music store in nashville.. quite seussical


hardly much of a storefront

Ride down the road
Nashville Tennessee
Old music store
No more can i see
One room farm house
Tattooed southern man
Not a whisper
But play sure he can
Strings of all sorts
Potential soft sounds
Deep or quite high
Sharp noises or round
Picks and a strap
I left saying 'bye'
'See ya pardner'
he replied with a sigh
Back to the house
Through dead summer heat
Gone tomorrow
And I forgot the street..




Poetry by Joe Fern
Read 503 times
Written on 2008-08-19 at 04:29

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