At a small tourist town
In the middle of the hills
Stands a bearded man
Sporting a derby
And shiny cowboy boots
Strumming his banjo
Folk music flows through the fresh
Windy mountain air
Soothing the tired traveler
A symbol of this nation
From the Ozark heart
Keeping a culture alive
With a rare talent
And a simple instrument
That few people play today
A friend of mine ask me to post this poem that I wrote sometime back. Sunny this is for you.
1 comment:
Terry, This is excellent. I can see why Sunny likes it so much. Vivid.
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