Sunday, May 31, 2009

WITHOUT A SONG

The following poem was written by my good friend, Dr. Dan Armstrong.

They will bury Alvin today
Sixty-three and not a gray hair
He owned a first-class guitar
It had been in and out of hock
He wrote songs, all unpublished
His voice was deep but rattled here and there
He cut hair, painted houses and barns
His first love was to write songs and sing
Maybe it was his second love
His vision of musical success was blurred
Alcohol was his greatest love affair
He lived in and out of the city tank
He knew the real world
Slept in parks and inside cardboard boxes
He always spoke of going straight
Of publishing songs and being famous
But he never got around to it
Today he was published for the first time
The obituary column had the barest of details
They will bury Alvin today . . . without a song.


Dan C. Armstrong, D. Min.
1737 Nottingham Road
Gate City, VA 24251

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