It’s not about hits,
or the number I can score,
it is just for fun.
A light mist hovers,
over the fields and the tress,
making them look good.
I’ve changed my guitar,
it is now an acoutic,
I want a new sound.
Words don’t come easy,
but nor are they difficult,
maybe they just are.
There’s a sound coming,
down the road and rushing fast,
oh yes, it’s a car.
I may come back soon,
and write on the tomb stone here,
in the small graveyard.
