Seated in a patio chair,
Facing the band that’s playing there,
A man with a long, white beard,
Begins to sketch, while I stare.
verse 2
First some lines up and down,
Then some more curving ’round.
and soon I recognize,
the charcoal guitarist strumming sound.
chorus
He sketches while listening,
To all the bands as they sing,
they’re unaware of the artwork,
on the paper that he brings.
It’s always different and unplanned,
and he does it all freehand.
Just a man with a long, white beard,
That sketches all the bands.
verse 3
Sometimes he quietly sings along,
To a familiar cover song.
He’ll pause to sip his drink,
with the band still going strong.
verse 4
After the last call and encore,
Everybody heads towards the door.
The man packs up his art,
Knowing he’ll be back for more…
chorus
He sketches while listening,
To all the bands as they sing,
they’re unaware of the artwork
on the paper that he brings.
It’s always different and unplanned,
and he does it all freehand.
Just a man with a long, white beard,
That sketches all the bands.
chorus
He sketches while listening,
To all the bands as they sing,
they’re unaware of the artwork
on the paper that he brings.
It’s always different and unplanned,
and he does it all freehand.
Just a man with a long, white beard,
That sketches all the bands.
Poetry by Carolyn Cantrell Snowden 