by Johanna Taylor

Created on: June 20, 2008

To the rythm of the drum I beat,
sweltering in this city's heat.
Another city, another day,
all the same, come what may.
My only guidance are my feet and mind;
I don't think about what I've left behind.
No one here knows where I've been,
No one here knows-have I sinned?
People here walk quickly by
giving me a short glance of an eye.
Caught up in thir daily lives'
no content to let music thrive.
One throws me a coin and moves on,
before I can thank him, he is gone.
What has this world become
where people can't stop just to hear a drum?
The perfect rythm fills my soul;
music is something I can control.
Here on the corner is where I'll play-
and here I'll be...for today.

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