IF MY HANDS COULD
If My Hands Could...
In a coffee house in South Philadelphia,
I would be playing my wooden guitar.
My left hand would be moving up and down
the wooden guitar
To change the tone of sounds flowing
While the right hand, would be forming
the soft sounds.
People would be listening to my words
That their hearts would be mine.
My voice would be Tom Waits.
Rough but kindly with well meaning behind
the unique sound.
My wooden and me.
There is silence in the room except my
dancing across the Strings of my wooden
The words of a love song have different
meanings to some
And to others the words are for their
heart and soul
In hopes of making them feel better afterward.
The song is done and my wooden guitar
is silent again.
Tomorrow it will play again
And my voice will accompany it to share
my words with it.
If my hands could...