There’s a reason
I can bend the
reeds on this
blues harp so.

There’s a reason
I can close my
eyes and hit
those mournful notes.

There’s a reason
I raise my head
up to the sky
when I play.

There’s a reason
that sometimes
my hands will
shake.

There’s a reason
I will start a solo
slow.

There’s a reason
that I know
how solos
go.

There’s a reason
I can wail and moan
that lonesome
song.

There’s a reason
why I held that
weeping line
so long.

There’s a reason
these folks came
to hear us play
tonight.

We all have our reasons,
be they wrong or
be they right.