Strumming a guitar
well past new
He taps his toe
to a beat his own
The stage is small
the people few
but his tune they know
and sing it true

A soft-spoken voice
sings so boldly
tales from days of old
which still pass through
his wise, warm heart
Alas there’s hope for today
and a belief that love is all

The past and present
dance like kindred mates
The words they play
Puns aplenty and
old world prose
All with thanks
to this wordsmith’s song

A traditional poet
shy and tender
Line by line
he hones his craft
A modern day minstrel
tall and slender
Newly-spun odes
revive vintage souls

c.b. 2011

This poem was inspired by my favorite “timeless troubadour,” Johnny Flynn.  One listen and you’ll see why he’s a well-kept secret the whole world should know.

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