She Didn't Have a Phone

She pushed herself up onto the old, worn barstool

And she lifted her twelve-string up onto her lap

Cradling it with ease and comfort in her arms

Holding the instrument like the good friend it was

Her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders

Resting along the curves of her guitar

Salvation Army beads and war surplus jeans

Adorned her in a time long past

The man behind the counter nodded his head, "Ready."

Her left hand raised and her fingers formed a "C" chord

Her right hand shook with nerves

But her fingers deftly picked the strings

Peter, Paul and Mary's folky version
Of John Denver's, "Leavin' on a Jet Plane"

Came softly flowing forth from her (she didn't miss a word)

Accompanied by the notes of her instrument (she didn't miss a chord change)

Now the owner of that old Nashville club

Read well between the lines

This girl, so naïve, did not need this job

So he thanked her kindly and said he would call

She didn't have a phone