He's Got His Blues Hat On
Blues calls his nameTop hat in place
Of a West point cap
Military's got his future
The blues has his soul
Black hat sharps and flats
White keys dance ying yang
Music is his sanctitude
Army has punched his ticket
To a place far from home.
Pain dances from his finger tips
Disguised by a blues melody
Familiar cords are a certainty
Cadet for a year and then
A certain uncertainty
And the hat calls his name
Calls his name
Calls his name
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 691 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2013-08-08 at 18:59
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