My daddy wasn’t a famous musician
He never played at Carnegie Hall
Yet his natural talent
Outshines them all

He could hear a song once
And play it by ear
The guitar was his vice
The instrument he held dear

Music always moved him
He smiled when accumulated notes were plays
“Guitar Man” yeah that’s him
A music lover until he went to his grave

His voice was like melodic notes
On a piano or a drum
Always eager to release his talents
Through song til the break of dawn

His very being and style
Was music in motion
He passed on to me
This magical potion

I’m proud to call him “daddy”
He was my musical muse
Melodies flowed from his fingers
As he played the blues

Proudly, I tell you “That’s my daddy!”
Without hesitation
His gift was unusual and inspiring
And he deserves a standing ovation.

Amanda Graham

Amanda Graham

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Amanda holds an M.A. in History. She loves well-written poetry and romance novels. Amanda has 2 cats and a 3-year-old son.
Amanda Graham

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