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The Man in the Cowboy Hat
Only echoes of his magic fill this hall now,
That gospel and soul that set him apart.
He crafted his music by the sweat of his brow
And for that he’s forever touched my heart.
How many years did he travel, how many grueling one-nighters played?
One can imagine the many feats of mastery deftly displayed.
Did the truck stop waitresses keep his coffee flowing,
A genius in the corner booth without their knowing?
He was a man who lived out his life on stages.
From grand old theaters to honky tonks he went,
Countless audiences stretching into the dark.
His profound lyrics permeated his pages
Before touching listeners to great extent,
Fashioned to leave an indelible mark.
To pay the bills he’d play for one and all
Including the oblivious uppercrust,
The ones who’d snicker at his oaken drawl
And fail to notice the beauty in the rust.
I sat there once, and though it can’t be,
It felt as though he played just for me.
I saw the twinkling keys of his piano
Through the lenses of Aviators reflected back.
Perhaps he wore his cowboy hat just for show
Yet it captured him better than an award or plaque.
When I greeted him outside he looked me in the eye
As I made effort to articulate the beauty of his song.
He said “oh, god bless you” and thanked me for coming by -
He may have been frail, but in my mind he will be forever strong.
Yes, the man in the cowboy hat has departed
And he and his piano have been laid to rest,
But for the invaluable gifts he imparted
I will always be grateful that I can attest.
