On banks of the Mississippi stood a young man mired...He tied his hopes and dreams to the twinkling distant lights. Lights that danced,that lay a shimmering pathway for him to walk.
Stub of a pencil and creased oily brown paper demanded with loud curses the lines hooks and verses. His guitar groaned and cried.....lamented and waited. She felt discarded while waiting she cried high on the neck."words are fickle but I love you so. So come give me your love,caresses me and I will show the way across the water the shimmering water...destiny fame...destiny demise.
He sat on the banks where big muddy ran deepest,spirits rising from deeper.he sat. He sat at the crossroads praying for sleep.
Where the words did keep counsel with the deepest of the deep...brassy green scale supended.
Judgement for the union of his instrument and his mind to untangle lyric and chord. Fame still glimered as he.slept.....and wept in deep lament his guitar, she shivered in his warm caresses in the balmy southern fog. They slept.
His fingers did caress her in dreamsleap as the union came. .......He awakened with a start but melody remaimed as he rubbed sleep from his eyes....
Now..now the two did coincide as across her tender body his hands did glide to gently brush across her neck way up high.
The lyrics melted like butter as they grudgingly left his lips .they did depart,amessage rooted in his heart.
The notes rang sweet and.clear from her loving.frame...again an yet again.
The young man walked across the shimmering glass over and.past the Mississippi and into lore and fame.
Robert Johnson meets mussel shoals.