A. Kathy Moss | + Follow Poet |
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Never the Same

His fingers traced the cold hard rock  of a now silent name,
Of a father he knew, a man he would not. No one to take the blame
His childhood changed a man yet to be, he cried for his loss and pain
Through the silence that followed, he walked away,
He’d never be the same.

He would come calling on the ladies, yet whiskey was his date,
Taking his hand, calling his name she numbed his futures fate
With her, soothing, smooth moving liquid she’d guide him through the night
She left him wanting more of her, to change his life insight.
With a cold ring of glass she called to him beckoning him to follow
He had married a bottle of comfort to fill his heart so hollow.
With every swallow, he would hear her call his name,
He tried to drink her into his soul,
He’d never be the same.

In his sorrow of tomorrow and the day that follows that,
He could only weep and borrow, self pity where he sat,
When on the midnight moon he heard a whisper on the breeze,
The bending of guitar strings, like bending of willow trees.
Caressing, addressing, assessing time itself,
Feeling healing, sealing wounds made on ones self.
He became one with the music and to himself wholeness came
As he learned to pick those guitar strings,
He never was the same.

One night a woman sat before him a whisper on her lips,
On a stage in a place that he played for tips
As she listen to his guitar, his sober fingers played
As he strummed another tune, his eyes upon her laid.
As she smiled up at him now his futures fate untold
Lay with in those days as lifes beauty started to unfold.
A year had passed since she first heard him play
Marriage and a chance to live every day
But when his son was born a prayer of thank came
For he folded his hands and bowed his head 
He would never be the same

Copyright © A. Kathy Moss | Year Posted 2005

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