The Guitar Of Time

On a guitar of time, he played pleasant tunes,
the rhymes of his life, were sang by the moon.

Always kept moving, he never looked behind,
stepped to the beat tunes played in his mind.

Many wise words he sang, so lovely the sound
composed with chords that kept peace around.

I sometimes get visions and with them shivers,
as I think of the legend, that traveled this river.

I wish it was true, that he'd wrote such a song,
when the world heard it, we'd all sing along.