He walked in ruffled with his old guitar <br />And listened to the blues and gazed around, <br />Then someone spotted him, “Oh there you are, <br />What can you play today? Let’s get some sound, ” <br /> <br />and so he strummed <br />and hummed <br />and on their sounding boards <br />the jazz men drummed <br /> <br />His plaintive vocal hardly rose <br />muttering, creaking, thinking as he sang <br />and drew us in <br />and thrust us out <br />into our dreams <br />of roads we tread <br />and beds <br />and lovers <br />from the covers <br />all our sadness <br />all our hopes <br />our thwarted lives <br />our dreams <br />our dreams <br /> <br />and then his reborn voice <br />we’d come to love <br />soars above <br />leaving us a haunting note, <br />a searing image, <br />and we rejoice <br />for we have found the antidote <br />to evil, in this world we love.<br /><br />Linda Hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dylanoid-rush/
