Bare-chested beneath the awning’s shade,
he sits with his guitar, half in dream—
the strings sigh softly, a golden seam
stitched through the city’s passing parade.
Rain-slick pavement mirrors light,
trams glide by in a silver blur;
his voice, low ember, seems to stir
the air between the day and night.
People pass—umbrellas bloom,
phones glow pale in drifting hands;
yet still he plays, as though he stands
in some cathedral made of gloom.
Unnoticed saint of Swanston Street,
his song spills warm where cold winds meet.
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A sight seen so often. This photo captures day to day. I really like it.
ReplyDeleteGood -Christine cmlk79.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteMe gusta la foto pero me parece una lastima que les hayas cortado la cabeza a los componentes de ese grupo. Abrazo
ReplyDeleteMuy dura la vida del musico callejero y además cuidando de su amigo peludo
ReplyDeleteGood shot :-D
ReplyDeleteI don't know if he did it well or not, but for whatever reason, he didn't have much of an audience. Good photography and magnificent reflections.
ReplyDeleteHe might be able to make a living with his music, or not. At least he can hang out with his dog. This not a happy scene.
ReplyDelete...let there be music in the streets.
ReplyDeleteI hope he and his dog have a good life.
ReplyDeleteWow! Just discovered this other blog, my friend. Lots to see. These are excellent!
ReplyDeleteM'agrada molt la música al carrer, tot i que penso que deu ser molt dur.
ReplyDeleteBona reflexió.
Salutacions, James.
Excellent shot
ReplyDelete