Evening Blues for Solo Guitar

When darkness walks like silent things of night,
And the city puts on hesitant finery,
And clouds on the horizon wear overcoats of pink,
I speak to you with strings of steel.

Now the day-dead rise from rooms that know no light.
Now footsteps echo in the great halls of streets
And blind fish cavort in neon-lit caves.
And I speak to you, ringing, twisting strings of steel.

Sometimes words fail.
Sometimes my fingers would be bloody stumps and these strings would not speak.
Sometimes I could beat them, stubborn mutes.
But now they speak for you.

Listen: I shall tell you what no one knows,
Twisting the truth out of a flatted fifth.
Listen: I have rags for you,
Blues from the old home for you.

Listen and laugh as the old blues laugh;
Dance as the old rags dance.
Another day and cataracts of silence may engulf us.
But now listen: I speak to you with strings of steel.

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