Blue Harmonica

A Patchwork Quilt bridging the gap between an image and a thousand words.

         Harmonica Man

"He sits on a stool in a cold coffee diner,
The lines in his faced washed in blues and in grays,
Protesting a fate that no longer respects him,
That reckons his future in hours and days."

"Playing for folks that mostly ignore him,
Playing his songs for a lady long gone,
And it seems like what's left of a life stretched behind him,
Are the pain that he wears and a blues colored dawn."

"Harmonica Man won't you play me your blues,
Three parts bad whiskey and two parts a song, 
I'll buy you some smokes and another cup of coffee,
'Cause the weather is cold in Maine and the nights are so long ...."