How the hell is one suppose
       To write some every day
       I use emotions – not by rote
       To write what I must say

       So I’ll try it one more time
       Put feelings down in words
       But I doube there’s something there
       I’m void of songs and birds…

       Not that songbirds ever where
       Or birdsongs sang to me…
       Though of course there was this time
       One sang in harmony

       I was sitting on the porch
       Wondering if I could
       Sing a song like long ago
       And if I could, I would

       So I picked up my guitar
       And held it on my lap
       And strumming very gently
       I sang of this and that

       Next I sang a song I wrote
       Of sadness far above
       About a man I knew for years
       And unrequited love

       Than a mockingbird flew down
       To a tree above my head
       Opened up his little beak
       And sang of what I said

       We sang of love together
       That mockinbird and I
       And when I stopped,that little bird
       Flew into the sky