Sing Song

Through the marry windows of times we've past,
the gates have stayed closed when we have asked.
For as a poem goes, it only goes so far. It's more of
a treat, because we've raised the bar.

Though little pearls are made from clams, little
writers use their hands. And when we dance
we sing a song, for the music lasts to long.

Writing a poem isn't easy anymore, people
have made it an art for all to adore. So if you
can't write a good poem you can't write a good
song. But we as writers write songs, with no
one to sing along.

When a ripple of water richochetts off the rocks, how can
I write when I'm not wearing any socks? For when
my feet are cold how can I think straight? When the
wind brushes by my face how do I know I'm not in space?

So for all those sing song writers out there, write for
the reader, who reads with a prayer.