Old man sitting class front
Plucks his twanging banjo
Singing songs about rain
Songs about this kind of day

Imagine the tough skin
Hugging his picking thumb while he strums
The music rewinds and ages
Giving rhythm to his pulls and nods

Lines escaping from a dark wrinkled cave
Hidden behind whites and grays
Growing south like so many do
Just an old man sharing his love with you

Keeping it all the same
Hum drum going nowhere
Questioning progress
Did I go anywhere today?

Or have I just returned?