There's an older man in my neighborhood who uses a simple house broom and sweeps along different roadsides day after day. Sometimes he just sweeps things into a simple pile, but often he leaves a design behind on the sidewalk or the street. When I go walking and encounter him we'll have a simple exchange. He always has a smile, always a sunny disposition, and his designs are pleasing to the eye.
Lyrics
He sweeps the dust into lines along the road
They stretch for blocks and invite the curb to dance
He spends his days drawing play from our decay
then some machine comes 'round erasing that romance
I suppose he gets his clothes at the Good Will
I might have worn them once, he's about my size
he works with gentle strokes his worn down broom
and when he happens to look up I see contentment in his eyes
[chorus]
Oh could you hand me down
your peace of mind
Could you hand me down
that smile that's kind
Could you hand me down
how you take pleasure in the lines you leave behind
I'd hang around
if you could only hand these down.
[verse 2]
He was resting in the shade when I came along
I said "Nice job", he smiled his thanks and held my eye
I admired the lines of dust that led to where he stood
He said "I'm careful of the sun." and we both looked at the sky
Some folks can change your life with just a look
I wonder who changed his from then to now
His sweeping don't make sense, except as art
Still, we see only just as much as we allow
[chorus]
[verse 3]
For years I did my job, then I retired
It rarely lit me up and only slowly burned me down
I was a lucky one, each day drove past those cardboard signs
Never guessed they might be happier than I was in this town
Now I walk my neighborhood most every day,
Caught by an artist weaving dirt on an asphault loom
Not lookin' to trade places but I'm watching people's faces
And welcoming their gifts into my room
[chorus]