City by the Bay
Up around North Beach
Where the stories were told
New city lights erases the old
The cigarette that lies on the cobblestone street
Smoking is not permitted on the backstreet.
They played their instruments and hum out some sounds
Artists and musicians just hang around
Is that all there is?
For some could say
Some of the musicians didn’t get paid.
The waitress asked what they wanted to eat
In a moment they were undaunted, should they have meat?
They sang out a song, the ones that they knew.
They sang of love and had a few.
The musician that sang sat on a chair
He ran his hands through his dark thick hair
He hummed a little to gather his pitch
And cleared his throat to lessen the glitch
he held onto the keynote, he just didn’t care
He took off his shoes, ordered, and stared
Let out a sigh frustration abound
Walked out the door without a sound.
An unconventional man with oddities galore
He wrote unabashedly, he wrote like a bore
He wrote every evening and sometimes before
There wasn’t anything he could say more.