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The Guitar Player

Greasy hair under his baseball cap,
day-old stubble on his double chin,
he picks away on his Gibson Guitar,
eyes half-shut easing the guilt
of leaving his family behind.

Miles of road ahead of him,
rain hits the windows of the tour bus,
he's seen them all----the farmlands,
deserts, mountains, woods and
skyscraper cities.

Booze and smoke cloud his brain,
he can't remember when he had a
home-cooked meal last,
he's played in all the honky-tonk
dives from here to there;
he still smiles at the pretty women
who give him the eye because they
love his music and masculinity,
he's the guitar player.
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Submitted by Sonny68 on January 21, 2016

32 sec read
66 Views

Sonia Walker

I have been writing poetry, short stories and articles of interest for over thirty years. Most of my writing has been published in small presses, journals and weekly community newspapers. It is enjoyable to receive positive feedback on my writing. Before retirement, I was an editor and co-publisher for a quarterly journal and monthly newsletter from Anchorage, Alaska. My philosophy is to write something everyday to keep the cobwebs away. more…

All Sonia Walker poems | Sonia Walker Books

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