The Musician

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A small English assignment that I felt pretty proud of

Submitted: September 25, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 25, 2019

A A A

A A A


Empty air, barren bed, and chipping paint

A man without much yet still a true saint

His walkman in hand, strolling down the street

Walking and humming to its fast, loud beat

Holds the door for the girl coming his way

 Smile, “Hello!” but there’s not much else to say

He does his job and he does it alright

Stands in the back, quiet and out of sight

Five o’clock rolls around, time to head home

He’s walking slow. Tired, but no need to groan

He stumbles inside and kicks off his shoes

Silence and dim lights, nothing really new

But he sits at his desk and grabs a pen

And writes until the words begin to blend

Funding his future by writing the past

Writing to the beat, no matter how fast

Making music. Art, a song, a story

Paving his road to a life of glory

Until then he must wait and bide his time

Scrounging every nickel, penny, and dime

Early mornings and even later nights

Knocked out, knocked down, but still willing to fight

He knows he can make it, just needs a chance

He knows he can make them sing, smile, and dance

But until then its back to the diner

Hosting. Dreaming of a life much finer

He sprinkles in the small talent he has

Cleaning, singing for the people who pass

They smile and sing along, giving small cheers

Wishing him luck in the upcoming years

that’s all he needs to keep his dream alive

Head up and mind clear, Always full of drive

Waits until he can finally get out

Eyes on the prize, never a sign of doubt

 


© Copyright 2020 IshaLara. All rights reserved.

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