Six String Storyteller

In the shadow of a mountain I make my stand. With my six

string storyteller in my hand. Wind whispers tales through the pines so

tall, and I play them back softly as the night birds

call. Oh, the road runs long, but the heart

stays true. Every mile I wander brings a song or two. If the world

grows dark, I'll strike a spark again. Because a tune feels lighter

when it's shared with a friend. I've walked cold valleys where the

rivers freeze. And warm front porches where the songs ride the breeze.