The Piano Man

A grimaced man- whos's challenged mind
is not stumped when it comes to sound
for I fall in love as his bony hands scrape each note
as they tremble upon up and down the scale.

He's lost in a world, yet known to a bar
where he mourns his tale of years ago 
where is daughter was too ill and ached his heart.
He now rolls solo, and his voice speaks for her.

The piano man is tredmendous to his blues,
no doubt they are so sad that makes my eye tear.
And yet his skills across the scale, my heart it follows rapidly.
I fall in love with a broken hearted, sorrowed man,  the piano man.

His pale cheeks show that he's ill and weak,
and I observe the way he drinks.  He takes so much
where he slumbers to a rapid fall out in the street.  
He's the poor, homeless, sorrowed man.  The piano man.

And one late night of December weather, I can not bare
to look at his eyes of blue turn whiter, so I offered him a home.
And his anger was for the pity, yet he knew I meant him well.
So he held my hand and said, "Lady, I know I'm empty in my pockets
but I would love to buy you some coffee."

Copyright © Brittany Martin | Year Posted 2007

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