i wrote a poem to the moon
and it did not turn its face to me and smile
i wrote a poem to the sun
and it only shone on me like everybody else
i wrote a poem to the stars
and they hid behind a mountain
i wrote a poem to the mountain
and it did not move
i wrote a poem to the road
and the dust rose up and choked me
i wrote a poem to the rain
and it turned the road to mud
i wrote a poem to the highway
and the cars and trucks passed me by
i wanted to walk the roads with li po and walt whitman
but would have settled for robert service and joyce kilmer
i wanted to hear people say, hail wandering minstrel
you make the earth a better place
but all i heard was silence
and only the sky showed me its face
and the face had a smile of snow
and the hard laughter of driving rain
i sought shelter in an old barn
and heard the roar of a passing train
i realized i had nothing to say
and no one to say it to
dawn came, and with nothing else to do
i wrote another poem
No comments:
Post a Comment