I hear the bells of the clock tower encompassing my ears from a short distance

They sing their sweet, sad song to anyone who will listen to their chime

The cars in town are getting in position for the celebration to start

The colors of vibrant oranges, yellows, and reds appear around the corner

The sky gets darker now as the sun's dim light gets absorbed in the clouds

I can feel the air changing; its breath flows over my face, neck'n ears

The sounds of the cars and rings of the bells get louder as they draw near

However, all I can see are the branches of a sycamore tree swaying like the music from his guitar.

My mind carries me back to him, back the way things used to be

I remember him performing on the stage, cradling his guitar, with a twinkle in his eye

Everyone gets quiet as the angelic sounds of his country music fill the room As he plays, his hands swiftly move with the tune of his guitar

He always said that when he played his music, it would take him far away

I remember him playing everyday of his life, until that dark day when he left this wonderful place he called home

People in that small town say he was a legend; one who will never be forgotten

The memories fade as the celebration comes to an end

The once mysterious sounds of the joyful parade are returned with quietness

As I head for my car, the sky is already painted with the colors of the sunset

As I enter my vehicle I am filled with the soft sound of his singing one last time

The tune of his favorite song “ I'm afraid of losing you”.