The Curb


The man with the guitar sat on the corner as he did more days than not
The passersby for the most part ignored him, immersed as they were in their thoughts
Dressed rather poor and rough at the edge, perhaps in need of a wash
Humbly he sat with his face to the sky and he sang of his hopes and his thoughts

He sang of the loves and the ails of Man. He sang of a love had and lost
For hours a day he sat there that way regardless of weather or cost

It happened one day that a man came his way who was falling apart at the seams
A suit and a tie, his shoes to a shine and his hair with a shimmering sheen
His posture and health told of breeding and wealth, he glittered with silver and gold
But the lines on his face said he'd seen better days and the twist of his lips spoke of tales untold

"I've no bar to tend, but you're welcome my friend, I'll lend your sorrows an ear"
With a nod at the curb (that seemed rather absurd) he said, "Have you a seat over here
It's humble and drab, a plain concrete slab, but it's free and it's cured me of worse
Sometimes living life with the mighty and high can be less a blessing than curse"

Without a thought the man copped a squat and said, "This isn't so bad from up close.
I've been walking all day, quite directionlessly and I'm sore to the tips of my toes"

"Time will heal toes, what concerns me the most" said the man with the musical eyes
"Is the hole in your heart, and I think we should start at the root where your troubles arise"

And never before had a gentleman more eloquently spoken of pain
He broke down in tears, letting go of his fears till at last he was human again

Through laughter and song, the night rolled along and a tired soul had a rare chance to breath
He said, "To have had such a treat on this tired old street is too much for me to believe
How can it be that such tranquility can be found in so lowly a place?
I've worked my whole life, through struggle and strife to create and control my own space"

"I've no bar to tend, but you're welcome my friend, I'll lend your sorrows an ear"
With a nod at the curb (that seemed rather absurd) he said, "Have you a seat over here
It's humble and drab, a plain concrete slab, but it's free and it's cured me of worse
Sometimes living life with the mighty and high can be less a blessing than curse"

Again said the man, "It's amazing you can see so deep to the heart of my pain
You're truely a gift, a vision divine and I do hope to see you again"

And with naught left to say, he wandered away with never a backwards glance
Determined again to play and to win and knowing that this was his chance

Still the curb held a man, guitar in his hand watching the ebb and the flow
He watched as they came, and he watched as they walked and he marked each one as they'd go

Then along came a day (It could have been May), when he spied one such face that he'd marked
He remembered a day when this man in his way had shared of himself until dark

"'Fternoon Mon ami" said the 'tarist with glee "It's good to see you my friend!"
The stranger recoiled at the sight of the soiled and dishevelled state of the man

"You've made a mistake, and I'm not going to take this "Friend" crap coming from you
You're unsightly and reek, and I'll call the police if you approach me again. Adieu!"

A man from nearby came up and said, "Hi. I saw that whole thing from the start
To see someone simply discarded like that, it pains me. It just breaks my heart.
It's hard living life in the midst of this strife, it hurts that we can't get along
That he casts you away 'cause his gift of the day is for cash and yours is for song."

"I've no bar to tend, but you're welcome my friend, I'll lend your sorrows an ear"
With a nod at the curb (that seemed rather absurd) he said, "Have you a seat over here
It's humble and drab, a plain concrete slab, but it's free and it's cured me of worse
Sometimes living life with the mighty and high can be less a blessing than curse"