Street Minstrel
Music will waft
On summer morning soft.
Like wind chimes,
Unwritten rhymes.
From the Minstrel's deft hand.
Some soul
Will stop and stand
Remembering a song.
In the high street throng.
Then resume
What they had planned.
Minstrel of the street.
Keeping the beat.
That slow applause
Of coins into his hat.
The notes
That he will trade.
Outside the laundromat.
To clean their soul.
With Ballads
Blues
And Rock and Roll.
Amid the noise and haste
He will try to paste
Songs.
On billboards
That don't exist.
For lips
He has never kissed.
As If
The whole world knew.
This sweet Minstrel
Was so blue.
His heart aching.
In the echoes of his ditty.
In alleyways waking
Asking for no pity.
He will play.
For a pocket of loose money.
Then steal away.
Just as the hot sun
Turns to honey.
At twilight sweet.
So special
Is the Minstrel
Of the street.
poem by Kevin East
Added by Poetry Lover
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