Sing Song

Through the marry windows of times we've passed,
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.