Sunny days
Cloudy days
Stormy days
They all hold
The potential to be
Ukulele days
Where I swing in my hammock
My soprano resting on my lap
And my fingers run up and down the fretboard
And I strum A minor
Over and over
I pluck away
Themes from movies
And songs that frequent the radio
I hum along
As I play
Tunes that are familiar
And ones
Entirely new
And made up
I close my eyes
Swaying on my hammock
Letting the sound of the ukulele drown out
Everything else
These ukulele days
They hold a special place in my heart
I may not be
Talented
I've never even taken a lesson
On how to play
I just one day
Got a soprano
And started strumming
I've never looked back
Because ukulele days
Are the days I live for
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
