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By coujeaux Date: 2002 Nov 11 Comment on this Work [[2002.11.11.22.35.27014]] |
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'Long the quaint corner of Fuller and Stone, Saturday nights held this treat, It was where Mr. and Mrs. Adamson came, waltzing slowly to a bluesman's beat. They'd started this ritual as newlyweds, happening upon him merely by chance, So entranced by his countryside boogies that they couldn't help but to dance. He never revealed his name or asked for change, just grinned playin' a guitar, With a sweet falsetto so beautiful you'd have swore he would have been a star. Though they never made appointments, the dancers and minstrel always returned, Each time they would arrive, music man would play the latest songs he learned. The Adamsons would giggle like children with joy as they weaved 'til the dawn, While their guitarist would chuckle wryly through his lyrics as he strummed on. This pavement became private floor for performers, place they called their own, Never interrupted by onlookers who would only serve to disturb their time alone. Many years and countless good times passed, some five decades of unbridled fun, But sadly age caught up to the Adamsons, and now their dancing days were done. They had always wanted to thank the musician for his dedicated nights of song, At the corner on their fiftieth anniversary, they discovered he'd moved along. Puzzled at his whereabouts, they asked nearby residents where the singer went, Stunned when one inquired why they danced to no music and what that had meant. |