Prairie Poetry   
  Blonde Guitar

Silent goodbye sunset
Runs ridged October sky,
Single goodbye teardrop
Arguing with my sigh.
Gets rough out here
When year´s near done,
Mighty rough out here
Worse without you, Hon.

Been a year tomorrow
You loaded up your car
But couldn´t take everything,
I still stare at your guitar.
If you maybe need it
The door is kept unlocked;
I could go sort seed
If ever you should stop.

Don´t blame you for going
Blame black silvered winter nights
Those were hard on you, girl
I heard your music fight.
Living here is foolish
That´s why I´m at home.
A fool like me was meant
To be quiet and alone.

  Ron Beam
  Copyright © 2005 Ron Beam
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