My Stories Are What Helps This Poet Sing
Once heard a lady sing opera one day
And thought “Boy I wish I could sing that way”
I joined a church choir, and sang my heart out
But my high notes sounded more like a shout!
I saw a gymnast do a summer sault
And saw an athlete perform a great vault
In my own mind thought, “I could do that”
Alas, can’t be done with two left feet, Drat!
So I sat down, thought, “Perhaps I can write”
And I thought and thought well into the night
Just sitting is what I manage quite well
No songs, no muscles, but stories to tell.
Of when I once fell out of a tall tree
Or when the choir master set me free
Or when the doctor set my broken arm
Or when my burnt toast set off an alarm!
Recalling memories from now and then
I’m happy to sit in my chair with a pen
Though physical talents I cannot bring
My stories are what helps this poet sing!
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