The Signals

In a little room, I play...where all familiar things agree, and all the walls are flour paste...to post my country gospel. Surrounded by these friends of mine...from out the echo of their age, I listen to my Marty Robbins, and my Merle Haggard, and my dear  friend, Ray Price, on drifting signals, come'n in...from old El Paso. These ghosts from all across the purple sage, sometimes, back me up...suggesting I might...sit in, if I'd like...to pick a 'thang', or two with them...fade in...fade out, we play...until, I folds and puts my mind away, in that guitar case, where the bent book of my mind, and the dry earth...give me rest.


Written By Bruce James Clyde 2016,  Deming, New Mexico

Photo Credit: biography .com, Merle Haggard-Country Legend