I'll play the A cord and then the B,
Drawing in a crowd hopefully they'll see.
I'm Stumbling on the tune and look miserable,
But I look so foolish that I'll be memorable.
I have no rhythm or knowledge but posses outer ignorance,
And even more so I hold such bleak innocence.
I'm the violinist playing an awful broken tune,
Swaying and dancing underneath the moon.
YOU ARE READING
The Bees, The Honey & The Bears
PoetryPOETRY FOR; For the ones bound like the bees, The ones with a soul as everlasting and pure like honey, And the ones with a spirit as determined as a bear.
