The Guitarist

The guitarist As I wallow In songs Of freedom I feel the power of love From the soul with Words of peace keep Running down my third eye to my long Fingers As I write with a blue pen The poems of nature That come from a new birth The guitarist The sound from the strings The sound so tender Like a morning songs From the birds The sound of the Guitar man do always melt Depression from my soul Play me the tone With the strings And let me dance like The trees of life The guitarist I love the guitar I love a guitarist I love the strings I love the melody From a good guitarist In places I hear tones From deferent guitarist's I love the deferent melody From places I go The guitarist I meet one homeless Guitarist by the side Of the street as usual Where people just pass Him by as nothing But when ever I saw him He always have a good Melody but he is homeless Yet was a guitarist The guitarist He plays sounds that attracts People to stop and pay attention As they drop coins on his Plate This man touches my soul With his melody His appearance looks dirty But the melody from his Guitar sounds so beautiful Yet he was homeless But he is a great guitarist The guitarist The value of a man Is not judge by his Appearance or status At a moment of time Just like The guitarist