Steve Hancock - The Songwriter

Some might say eccentric
Strumming potential strings
Searching for pure inspiration
The songs the crooner sings

His laughter comes in rhythm
His joy composes rhyme
His heartbeat is a metronome
That keeps a perfect time

His pain a vacant canvass
His tears a turning lathe
From which he sculptures music
On the unreplenished stave

His songs unnurtured babies
He cradles in his arms
Tainted with life’s misdemeanours
Adorned with lexicon charms

Some might say eccentric
If so then crown me king
Mine is that haunting melody
You can not help but sing

Steve Hancock

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-songwriter/