Listening to the Blues
Slouched almost supine
Next to special person,
Her hand clasped in mine:
Mississippi picking,
Bottle neck used as a slide
St James Infirmary playing,
End of a long Blues ride.
Now a mouth harp break
Exhilaratingly raw,
Finger picking guitar
Carrying the music before.
House rent music that
Spread the world around.
Borrowed, refined, adapted
Into a multitude of sounds.
Music to relax to that
Seeps slowly, and with style,
Down into the soul
Satisfying all the while.
Voices of gravel,
Voices that moan and wail
But voices of power to tell
Some of life's varied tales.
At times when I'm stressed,
Or at times of despair,
At times of great joy
The Blues are always there.
I first listened as a child,
A period so long gone,
But still my favored listen
As my life speeds along.
Now almost in my dotage,
Slouched almost supine,
Still listening to the Blues with
A very special friend of mine.
