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In the Vicinity
Write me a poem, in your own words
Tell me about a guitar and a bird
Tell me about the spruce troubadour
Who wants to romance you right off the floor
Tell me about how his love is so real
Far and beyond any way he may feel
Tell me about how the inkling first came
When you thought that perhaps you were more than a name
Eight or twelve lines, it doesn't have to be long
You write it, I'll take it and put it to song
Two people will hear it, just you and I
And through it we'll know that there's love that's nearby
Copyright ©
Andres Luis Bigote
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