When taking chances, failure feels
Better than success unearned.
Yet here I am, sidewalk my stage,
Singing a song from my stomach.
You see, I’m obsessed with a melody,
One that came to me on a rainy afternoon,
And lives between chords molded
From the flatted thirds of minor keys.
It would leave you wondering,
“What could have been?”
As you shuffle with your coffee,
And toss pocket change in my jar.
But I won’t sing that song for you;
It’s too nice of a day for the blues,
And you seem too busy
To hear a song like that now.
April 18, 2013
Rewritten Jan 2014