Musician's Time

A poem which came to me while looking at a copy of a painting called "The Guitarist"

Musician's Time

I played well then
I've made a buck
But as of late
Down on my luck

If you can hear
If you like my song
Pay the piper
You can't go wrong

It's not as good
As it used to be
I'll play harder
If you'll tip me

The way I played
When I was younger
I never thought
I'd see such hunger

I'm gettin' old
I'm tuckered out
Can't make the chords
I'm not so stout

You should have been
There at Woodstock
What I played then
No one could top

To create the noise
Was my way of life
It cost me all
I lost my wife

The woes I've had
Number so many
My eyes so gaunt
My body, skinny

When I am dead
And when I'm gone
There'll be so few
Who miss my song

Some of them were
The good ole boys
Some of them helped
To make the noise

'Streets of Laredo'
Comes to my mind
I can see them now
Even though I'm blind

It helps me to see
When strings I strum
I think I can see
What is to come

The wind is blowin'
I am so...cold
Can't play no more
I'm just...too old