Sitting on the front porch in the evening shade,
strumming on a flattop guitar that was made
to play along with a country song
about a sad heart who was done wrong.
Old Shep beats his tail to the tune,
enjoying the breeze and the croon
of the melodic voice which fills the air,
encouraging the birds to sing with flair.
Friendly neighbors stop by to listen with glee
to the one-man show which is free,
there isn't anything he can't play,
taking all requests on any day.
Favorites are heard and the group is a part
of the dusk-like entertainment considered art,
joining together with voices raised high,
taking a walk down memory lane with a sigh.
Sitting on the front porch in the evening shade
is a summertime thought that will not fade,
singing along with the guitar,
making sounds in unison near and far.