What to Write

The fiddles play a country tune,
The whales blow gigantic plumes,
And writers sit within their rooms,
Not knowing what to write.

The dancers dance in lovely ways,
The sunset blows the ended day,
And writers can't think what to say,
Especially to write.

A singer sings, an actor plays,
As peasant, king, or greedy knave,
But writers find an empty page,
For words they've yet to write.

And even while the skies are skies,
While teachers teach and lawyers lie,
A writer still will try and try,
Not knowing what to write.