Sunday, February 17, 2008

Silent Guitars

The bus rolls by as mattresses are unloaded in the night,
the music in my head has me seeing things and imagining places I've been before,
almost home and rest is near
men on the train play guitar with more heart than talent,
singing out to the ones they lost long ago
how can I imagine their pain,
how can I sleep when their eyes never rest, even while closed?

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