Blues boy

You don't really know what to do with your hands,
so you carry around the guitars
that make you feel lord of these lands,
quiet attics and old bars.

You kiss sweet everythings into the mic,
love and lust as to a woman's lips
because good scotch needs no spike
to arrive at one's fingertips.

You smile as though no one is looking,
to yourself and your own joy
and no idea of other's delight

in seeing a man become a boy
out of love for what he's doing
and all else that he still might.

20/12/2017