Busker
By Lord R.e. Taylor
Every weekend, you will find them
Sitting on milk crates, living their lives
With their guitars or keyboards
They produce the best music
Maybe even better than those millionaire singers
They never demand cold spring water
Or an unending appetite for green jellybeans
There are no seven-figure paychecks for them
Just maybe a few fifty-cent pieces
Or the shock of someone giving them a ten-dollar bill
All they get is a true sign of appreciation
With a few added minutes of applause
That is the life of a busker
A true artist performing for the love of music
© Poem – XXIII/III.MMXXVI
LRET
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