a.d. winans | memory of kell robertson

Memory of Kell Robertson

Old guitar slung over his back
Pure country singing the blues
with eyes that bleed the dawn
Leaves a message on
Annie’s answering machine
Reads a poem about a bird
that died in his hands
Recalls the scattering
of his daughter’s ashes
Caught in the pit of sorrow
this man of music
this one time old friend
who works the nerve ends
like a skilled surgeon
Still fighting still scraping along
like the rest of us
for whatever time is left

A.D. Winans

1 Comment

  1. a.d.winans

    like the photo.


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