I see a man, with calloused hand, who's writing in a book.
I'll sneak around the corner, to get a better look.
I see the wall behind him, and the pictures hanging there.
I can see the furrows on his brow, and receding pale grey hair.
A woman's in the picture, he looks at it a while,
A tear falls slowly down his cheek, and yet I see him smile.
He's closed the book, and now his eyes, I see his shoulders shake
As I stand here, it seems to me, his heart is going to break.
There are other photos on the wall, a young girl, and two boys.
I sense that these are part of all his memories, all his joys.
The room is neatly furnished, but it lacks a woman's touch.
I feel this missing woman must be why he hurts so much.
I see him rise, and then he's gone..Wait, he's back now with a beer.
And on his face, no sadness there, the man seems full of cheer
I must admit, he puzzles me, for his mood just seemed to shift
One moment with a happy smile, then like a ship adrift.
I'll be back another night, to look in on my friend,
In him, I sense a story, a tale without an end
He is a mystery, and that tale; I've a sense that I must know it.
The secret of his shifting moods..he's almost like a poet.
I turn to leave, but I can't go, I feel I must remain.
For this poor man in this small room, seems to be in so much pain
He picks up a black guitar, I watch him deftly play a string,
And even through the window, I can hear the music ring
I hear his voice, but not the words, as his fingers move along
I truly wish that I could hear the lyrics of that song
For as he sings, he turns my way, I see a sparkle in his eyes
He does not seem unhappy now, and that caught me by surprise.
I look once more around the room, and I see the woman's face
An obituary's underneath, I guess that's the sadness in this place>
I caught some words, I heard him sing, 'You are my one and only"
I think I know now what I see, a veteran of life; Of love
Now on his own, and lonely.
