He fretted over a bridge
that was not from his songs,
staring into the waters below,
his guitar on his back
in a case tightly strapped,
cause he felt it was 
time he should go.

He'd been cranking out songs
since he was a young man,
plucking heartstrings and 
voicing his pain.
till each love slipped away,
and his tunes brought no pay,
leaving no cause for 
him to remain.

So he figured he'd fly
like a eighth note set free
floating forever 
off of life's stage,
leaving dreams all gone flat, 
he'd land sharp with a splat
ex-musician turning 
his final page.

At his pause before leaping
he was stopped in mid-stride, 
and his senses became magnified,
as two mourning doves cried,
and a train passing by,
brought a melody 
he'd been denied.

The night sounds of the city,
all those rhythms and horns,
and the whistling of 
a warm summer breeze,
brought tears to his eyes,
under bright starry skys,
So he stepped back and 
fell to his knees.

Inspiration comes hard
near the edge of despair,
on steel beams he found 
hope waiting there,
in the echoes of life
that he'd sought to vacate,
he'd now found a new 
song he could share.

Then a girl driving by,
felt concern for this guy
who was kneeling 
as if he was in pain,
so she stopped 
and she cried,
"Hey, do you need a ride?"
bringing his leap 
from life a refrain.

They wound up in a bar,
sharing small talk and beer,
just two lonely souls
seeking a friend,
last I heard 
they were dating 
....both anticipating
a story with a happier end.

And that song that he heard,
while he stood on that rail,
hit the top ten, 
with a rocket to fame,
from a watery grave
to the latest airwaves
sometimes patience 
is the name of the game.


ArtWhimsically Yours Studio

MFB III Productions-(c)-2015