http://www.rrjones.com/images/blind_man.jpg
He had that certain quality that made him stand out from a crowd:
Dark ebony skin
Definitely thin
And white hair that was as wispy as clouds...
...Yet never once did a herd of selfish thoughts graze his mind
Cause there was always something about him that made him shine -
Maybe it was the glow in his cheeks as he played with his child
Or maybe it was those wrinkles that creased his face when he smiled
Yet he was a musical man –
Catching every note that latched his mind
Sitting on the sidewalk – strumming his guitar for passers by
And a long time ago – the sky’s beautiful blues were caught in his eyes
Dancing with a riveting sparkle that God had drawn in the sky
But that’s all a distant memory – and it’s time to sigh, my friend...
...As this poor old man’ll never see those eyes again

60 years ago – he marched the streets with pride and respect
Dog tags clattered his chest – hanging loosely from the incline on his neck
He smiled and he stretched:
Ready to die for what he believed was right
Never allowing the thought of “dying for your country” to leave his mind
But the mud – the guns – the blood –
He couldn’t bare to smell it… and when
The skies exploded with red and the abating bomb fell on their trench
It turned into a city of smoke –
With human lives inhaling most of the damage
Then he saw the grey-suited enemy soldiers raise over the embankments...
...And charge through the rings of smoke to be killing some more
Soldiers –
While others were lucky enough to be made prisoners of war
I doubt you could call them lucky though – cause it was actually tragic
As they tortured each soldier by blinding their eyes with battery acid

So now he rests on the sidewalk – blinded –
And the setting’s bleak
Cause he has no eyes to see that he’s playing for an empty street...
...He fought in the war, damnit – and these people pay no respects, so he
Cries a river inside while his guitar gently weeps
When he came back from the war –
He expected music and people to sing to the beat
But instead an elderly man led him home –
While the crowd of people would spit at his feet
He couldn’t see their faces –
But he could hear that they didn’t really care
They just looked at him like some blinded fool ensnared in a wheelchair
So to this day, he sits on the sidewalk with his dream never fulfilled
Waiting with an empty glass jar to be filled up with dollar bills
Cause he wants his eyes repaired – but it creates a swell in his heart
When money never comes and only his tears fill the well in the jar
So he strums each silver lining that used to be attached to the clouds
While he continues to pluck that golden string that once attracted the crowds


And he sits ‘til eternity –
Strumming his guitar – thinking of the times he spent...
...Waiting to find a pot of gold in his jar – just so he can live his life again

__________________
Life isn't a bitch...
she's just sick of being personified -Sage Francis