The blue is contagious. The skin cold from the sadness, the man is nothing but a container of skin and bones.
The ragged clothes shows the hardship of his life, of his misery. The midnight cloak is the perfect time for a song, a peaceful melody.
The bony fingers strum the worn out strings. The music floats and twirls in the air covering the silence of the night.
The sound creates an indigo mood. Expressing the deep blue that's engraved on his face and stitched in his soul.
The chill of the air influencing his blood flow down to his bare feet and up to his hanged head. The only warmth is from the guitar.
The navy of the night lingers with the sound as it surrenders to the blackness. The ghost of a man sits with the silence once more.